First Moves
by squeekness
Summary: It's time for the Game to begin. A series featuring Gambit, Logan and Beast plus my own OCs. Part one of the Game series.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: It's time for the Game to begin. Part one of my Game series.

Rated M for profanity, violence and some sexual content. There will be some slash content but not X-man on X.

Disclaimer : I do not own the X-men or any of their associated villains, but the Siskans, the Dognan, Jael and the Outkasts are mine. Please do not use them without my permission. Thanks. :)

Notes : **This story contains a number of OCs (other characters).** No, wait, before you run away screaming – there are X-men in it, but the story is mainly about Kimble, a sentient, living hologram who finds himself among the X-men. This story is his impact on their lives (mostly Gambit's) as he tries to find his place in their world. Bah, you say! Who needs OCs (other characters) anyway! Well, take into consideration that technically any new X-men after Giant Sized #1 could be considered an OC, they are not part of the original team after all. That would include some big names – Kitty Pryde, **Gambit**, Cable, Bishop, Maggot, Marrow, Psyclocke, all the Gen M kids. Are you getting the idea now? Yes, this story has a few OCs, but I'm asking you to let them pass or fail on their own merits, not because they are not original X-men.

This new series is a sequel to my Kimble series but I've tried to write it so that you don't have to have read the Kimble series first to read this. It's obviously better if you do, but I know how long it is and some of you just might want to skip it. Just be aware that this is slightly AU and some things will be different. This is Kimble- verse if you like. Just the same, those of you who have read Kimble, please be patient as I did spread some recap material around. Just gloss over it if you like. :)

This material is newer and hasn't been gone over as many times as Kimble, so if you notice something glaringly off or bad, please let me know. :)

This is an illustrated work as Kimble was and the art should be up soon on my website, you can get to it through my profile page. Art for Finding Angel has been posted if anyone is interested in looking at it.

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(One)

"_I wish I could see the future."_

_I half open my eyes, blinking out into the twilight. You know, it's nice to have a client here in my bed, it happens so seldom and he was quite magnificent, but the thing is, once they're properly fucked, they should just go to sleep and spare me. Fleshly creatures, what do they know? I'm a Siskan Courtesan, created by men, not by Gods. I say this so you can understand the distinction. Fleshly creatures, whom I call **Chuckfet **because they disgust me, think that because they were made by a higher power, they are superior to me, a simple construct or hologram. I myself have become quite convinced that the opposite must be true. Never have my kind shown the kind of careless cruelty of the **Chuckfet.** Never have we tried to take over worlds or enslave others. We are simple and kind, living only to please our clients and be merry. I would be merry as well, if my client would only shut up and go to sleep._

_Heh, see the future. What a joke. It's not all it's cracked up to be, let me tell you._

_Ever look it up? I have, you know, to help me with my English. I speak so horribly I figured what harm could it do? I was disappointed by what I found. Such a cut and dry explanation for something so powerful and destructive to one's soul._

**Precognition.** Precogni"tion, n. - knowledge of an event before it occurs.

_Cool huh? What a fucking crock. What it really means is waking up drenched in sweat, a choked off scream dying in your mouth. Is it real, this thing I just saw? Or was it just an empty nightmare brought on by stress? I've gone to my Master for advice, but even he has no answers._

"_Go back to bed, Dreamer," he says. "Do you want a tonic?"_

_Sheesh, right. Just dope me out and I'll go away. Typical Master reaction to a troublesome Siskan. And I am troublesome, of that you can be assured. I feel it is my right --- being someone's toy shouldn't mean I should just lay quiet until called for. No, he went out of his way to collect me, he can damn well put up with my shit. _

_But I digress..._

"_Szleep now," I mumble to my bed partner. It's not my Master, just one of his officers. Guess he must have found some favor with my Master --- and with the bottle. I don't usually get chosen unless they are too drunk to realize I'm a man and not one of my sisters. Not that they've ever regretted it afterwards, mind you. I am the best at what I do. "It'sz late, neh?"_

"_I mean, it would be great to know the lottery numbers before I bought my ticket," he continues to mumble, the inconsiderate bastard. "I'd be so rich, I could buy a Siskan for myself."_

_I wonder what should insult me more, the fact that he's keeping me up or that he just said that as if I wasn't some kind of fucking slave laying here next to him. I say nothing, I never do. No one will ever accuse me of being some kind of chatterbox. Silent and sullen, that's me. I observe, look and listen. Ever watchful. It's important, you know. I'm not the smartest Siskan ever made, but I have managed to learn one thing with absolute certainty — The future is not set in stone. What we do at any given time affects things later on. _

_How do I know this? Well that's easy. I'm the Dreamer and I dream every night, I see things. It's not always bad, but the dreams do change. They shift like shadows on your wall if you've got a tree just outside. A calm night, it doesn't move. Get a nice hurricane going and man, it's moving all over the place. I know of hurricanes. I've lived here in my Master's New Orleans palace for a long time now, long enough to have a few of those windstorms bluster through, ripping the shingles off. They scare the piss out of me — I'll never claim to be brave though my sister assures me this is so — I scream and shiver like an old drunk just in detox. It's not the storm that scares me I guess, but the violence of it. Life is like that, calm one day, ripping you apart the next. You have to be so careful, the decisions you make. One wrong move and someone dies._

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Razel sat up on his bunk, hearing a noise. Razel was Jael's number two man -- at least, he had been until he'd been jailed. Jael was once one of this world's up and coming anti-human terrorists until the X-men came and shut him down. Razel had been languishing in this SHIELD prison cell for seven years, doing not much more than twiddling his thumbs. He had long since given up hope of rescue, it seemed to him that if Jael was going to bust him out he would have done so by now.

Razel was kept in solitary confinement based solely on his affiliation with Jael, the guy hadn't caused any trouble since he'd been taken here. Razel was a mutant, his special gift being the ability to teleport himself and passengers if necessary. He was kept constantly collared and watched, but he wasn't much of a threat to anyone beyond his reputation. It was unusual to have any activity on the floor at this late hour, it was well past midnight so he was naturally curious what was going on. Maybe they were bringing in someone new.

Several pairs of footsteps were coming down the hall. Razel was more puzzled still when they came to a stop right at his door.

Razel was kept in a state of the art confinement cell designed for isolation. He had three solid brick walls reinforced with energy shields to keep him in. The fourth wall was primarily a solid steel door with a small window and a trap door for his food and toiletries to be passed through. Razel never left his cell - he had his own private bathroom if you wanted to call it that. It consisted of a toilet, a sink, and a tiled area for him to shower, all of which was left open and in full view of the window in his door.

There was a clang and then something Razel hadn't heard in years, the sound of his door being unlocked. He wasn't happy at that noise, oh not at all. In fact, it terrified him. From the first day he'd been incarcerated here the guards had come and taunted him, whispering to him stories of raids being done in the night, where once time and paperwork had long forgotten an inmate such as himself, someone would come in the night and make that disappearance all too permanent. After all, why should SHIELD continue to house and feed a loser such as himself? It's not like he had any visitors or heard from a lawyer in years. Razel figured he'd finally been here long enough for such a raid to actually take place.

Razel fled from his bunk and backed away to the rear of his cell, his fists raised. Years of confinement had made him sloppy and weak, he knew he would never be able to defend himself, but wasn't ready to go out without having a say about it. The door opened and he was faced with a group of three men, none of which he recognized as being his guards.

One of them grinned at him. "What's the matter, Raz? Forgot me already?"

The face was slightly different, but Razel knew that voice well enough. It was Terrel Jacobs, someone Jael had recruited just before Razel and the others had been taken. Terrel had been a gangly, blonde and blue eyed teenager when he had first been recruited. He was a grown man now and it changed the look of his face. Terrel was a bio-producer of plasma energy and fast on his feet, a natural for the type of work he was currently engaged in -- breaking and entering. Terrel and his compatriots were dressed as prison guards and while Razel had no clue how they managed to infiltrate this deeply into SHIELD's security, he didn't much care. Razel came forward in a rush, gasping, "Terrel!"

Terrel reached out as Razel staggered forward and gave him a squeeze. "You didn't think the boss was going to leave you behind forever, did you? You're too good a man to lose."

"Oh, thank God! Where are the others? Marcus and Shakra?"

Terrel grinned, backing away and letting Razel breathe. "Well, that's why we got to you first. We need you to 'port them out."

"I can't do that. I've been collared."

On top of his high security cell, Razel had been fitted with a state of the art restraining collar that would keep him from being able to teleport. It was high class and he'd been wearing it for so long now, he wondered what it would feel like without it. Razel stepped back in surprise when one of Terrel's men came forward and began to examine it.

"Can you remove it?" Terrel asked and the guy nodded, going to work at once.

While Razel would be grateful to be free of the collar, he knew that the collars were most often booby trapped. He had no desire to see his own head blown off. He began to sweat but Terrel just laughed softly, "It's all right, Raz. Mikey's the best. He can unlock anything."

Terrel was right. There was a satisfying click and then the cumbersome weight that Razel had had to bear for nearly seven years was gone. He staggered a bit, feeling dizzy. The collar used an energy field to keep him in place and now that it was gone, it was as if a great leaded weight had been taken off his shoulders.

"Give it try, Raz. Just one little pop."

Razel grinned and in a flash of flight was gone. He reappeared just outside his door causing some excitement from his cell mate across the hall. "Let me out, too!" the man called out, rattling his fists against the door.

"Shall we?" Razel asked his companions, his eyes merry.

Terrel just grinned. "Tonight, buddy? They all come out. Each and every one."

They left as group, freeing the prisoners from Razel's solitary confinement area first and then spreading out. It seemed this little prison break had been in the works for some time. Months, maybe even a year at least, Jael had been sending in his little spies to infiltrate this facility. Tonight, they had struck as one, killing several guards at first to gain position and then, as they freed everyone they could, the real slaughter began.

By the time the first alarm sounded it was too late. Jael had exacted his revenge with zeal, his crew was freeing friend and foe alike, all the most vicious killers and wackos in the place whether they owed him allegiance or not. This merry band of murderers and thieves now worked their way through the prison staff, killing anyone who got in their way.

Razel was busy as well. Terrel had brought with him a series of plans for the prison, giving Razel enough information about the place that he could teleport with ease, freeing who he liked but most especially his two best buds, Shakra and Marcus.

He went for Marcus first. Marcus was a winged wonder not unlike Warren Worthington, but he was also telekinetic making him a powerful ally. Razel wanted Marcus' shields in case they ran into trouble. He found Marcus in a cell very much like his own, the man had been collared as well, but they soon made short work of that. After a brief hello, they were off and running again.

Shakra was another matter. They found her not in a cell, but in a med lab under a medically induced hibernation. Restraining collars were good at keeping people put and controlling energy producers, but for Shakra they had little effect. Her mutation had her covered in prickly purple quills that gave off a powerful neuro-toxin. Just one quill could bring a grown man down to his knees, too many could kill. To keep the SHIELD staff safe from her quills, they chose to keep her under sedation instead of trying to contain her. Razel was angry beyond words to see it. He wasn't in love with her, but they had worked side by side for ages and were as good as brother and sister. Jael could get up on his soap box and say how it would be better for him to rule and how rich he would make them all, but it was the degradation of mutant rights that kept Razel at his side. It was seeing Shakra strapped to a table and helpless that made his rage really burn.

Marcus was upset as well to see what they had done, but he at least could do something about it. By shielding his own skin telekinetically, he was able to free Shakra from her bonds and pull out the all the needles that were feeding her sedatives. They had no time to wait for her to wake, they could already hear approaching sirens, so Marcus pulled her up into his arms and away they went.

They didn't waste any time -- they used the bedlam caused by their freed compatriots to their advantage and got out of there as quickly as possible. By then SHIELD was bringing in the heavy artillery to defend itself and they knew a good number of the escapees would be captured, they wanted to make sure they were not among them. Razel was able to teleport them out and away to safety.

Once outside the building, Terrel had more in store for the SHIELD prison. He had collected as many energy producers as he could persuade to follow him and they launched a devastating secondary assault on the prison, sending huge fireballs of plasma to knock down the walls and set fire to the men outside who were trying to stop them. They were not concerned with being safe or not hurting people, they intended to punish and punish they did. Many men died that day, incinerated where they stood. It didn't take them long to wreck the place and make sure it would never be used to house mutants again.

After that, Terrel gathered Jael's newly released upper echelon to him and they left in a flash of light, returning home. Returning to Jael.


	2. Chapter 2

(Two)

Angel scampered through the trees, giggling to herself as small girls often do. She was young, only about seven or so, and happy to be playing outside in the morning sunshine. She was dressed in a light red jumper and sneakers, her tawny hair long about her shoulders. She had it tied back in pigtails, pink ribbons neatly in place.

She heard a rustle overhead and ducked down, hiding. She waited a moment and when nothing happened, took off running again. She squealed when she heard the rustling again and then shrieked in delight as she was suddenly scooped up from behind by powerful, large white hands.

"Daddy!"

Her father, a strange cross between an angel and a man, embraced her tightly and held her close as they flew through the air, the wind whistling through their hair and the warm late summer air on their backs. Kimble was a skillful flier and enjoyed his morning exercise. He wasn't human, not even close, but was a sentient hologram given true life through fate and circumstance. He required the sunlight to provide him with energy and sunned himself every morning to 'recharge'. He used his need to be outside as an excuse to spend time with his daughter and play around.

Angel wasn't his biological daughter. He wasn't flesh and therefore not capable of having children of his own. He didn't mind. Angel was enough for him. He had rescued her from a burning building when she was an infant and she became his own. They were inseparable and he was very protective her. He was a Siskan Courtesan, a pleasure program, and required a Master or Mistress to be truly happy. This young girl owned him in every sense of the word and she was his whole world.

Kimble was a Siskan hologram designed by humanoid creators, but he was dressed in the skin of a male pilot, a creature from another world. He had the upper body of a man with the wings of a bat, but his legs were bent and crooked like those of a cat, giving him a bird like appearance. His feet were made of two large, furry toes with a large toe claw in between, handy for grasping onto trees while climbing. Like the fleshly pilots he'd been made to resemble, Kimble was telekinetic, he could move his body through the air just by thinking about it. His wings were beautiful, but not powerful enough to lift a man of his size. They gave him extra speed and agility, that was it.

They flew around for a while, drifting lightly over the huge grounds. At the center was a large three story mansion, the heart of the Xavier Institute where they lived. It was here that Professor Charles Xavier fought his cold and silent war against mutant intolerance. Charles was a telepath, possibly the most powerful telepath on the planet. He had long since been a campaigner for mutant rights and peace between mutants and normal humans. It was a never ending process, hampered by the many militant mutant groups out there stirring up the pot of hatred with their violence.

To aid in his quest for peace, Charles Xavier gathered like minded mutants and formed the X-men, a group that fought off the more violent groups of mutants and humans in an attempt to maintain the peace. Their existence was kept secret, the Institute was mainly a school, a place where mutants could come to learn how to control their powers while being kept safe from any violent humans that wouldn't accept them in the regular public schools.

Kimble swooped down behind the Mansion to where their quad was located, landing gracefully on one of the upstairs balconies. The quad was one of several additions to the main house. Here Angel and Kimble shared a life with the other tenants, mutants like themselves. There were four apartments here and he and Angel lived in one with his best friends, Remy LeBeau and his wife Molly. Kimble shook some of the morning dew off of his mirrored sunglasses and herded his adopted offspring into the house.

They made their way inside and into the kitchen, eager for breakfast. The quad apartments were roomy and generous, plenty of room for all. Remy's place had become a gathering room of sorts, his kitchen the main source of breakfast for all the tenants here. The kitchen was busy with activity as everyone else in the quad had also gathered there for breakfast as well.

Kimble headed over to a smaller, separate table where the children had gathered. He'd become the official babysitter of the quad and of the X-men clan as well, watching over them protectively. Besides his own daughter, five other children resided here in the quad. There was Carrie, the daughter of Cyclops and Jean, and Wolverine's three, Carter, Leslie, and Jessie. The fifth was Chelsea, the daughter of Cindi Landry, a woman who spent most of her time out on the road doing overseas missions for the Professor.

Karen Logan, Wolverine's wife and the resident psychologist, had started most of the food cooking and was nibbling on bacon while she served the children. When she saw Kimble, she smiled and handed Carter to Kimble, kissing them both before she dashed out the door. She also had clients off the grounds and spent a few hours in the city every morning. Carter was very young, less than a year old. Kimble slid on a Gerry pack and squeezed the baby into it, freeing up his hands so he could set the plates of food out for the other kids. He fussed over them and conducted this small army of tiny persons, skillfully using his telekinetic power to keep them in line. He'd mastered the use of his power long ago and using it now was second nature to him.

Kimble spread the food around, grabbing small bites for himself. He used plasma from the sun to charge, but he ate food as well in tiny portions, just enough to enjoy the taste. "Where's Remy and Logan, huh?" he asked to the crowd. "They's gotta eats, too."

**_Remy's downstairs stretching and Logan's out running and checking the grounds,_** Molly answered, using her hands to form silent words. A violent childhood injury had left her unable to speak well enough to form proper words and so she used sign language to communicate. **_He should be here any minute. _**

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Kimble and his daughter hadn't been alone in the trees, a lone runner was making his way silently through the foliage, his passage going unnoticed by the happy couple. The subject of Kimble's inquiry was out and prowling, making his morning rounds. James Logan was a short man, standing only about five foot two, but he was one of the more dangerous mutants living at the Institute. His primary mutation was a healing factor that allowed him to heal rapidly from almost any injury. This healing factor landed him under the scrutiny of a secret agency of the Canadian government, his employer at the time. He was kidnapped and forced to undergo a painful process during which Adamantium, an indestructible metal, was boded to his skeleton. This would have killed any normal man, but his mutation allowed him to survive. He later broke away from that agency to come and live here at the Institute, using his body as a weapon for peace. He was also in charge of Security here at the Institute and often spent his mornings checking the grounds and making sure all was as it should be.

Logan had suffered many years with a fractured memory, a result of the horrible tampering that had been done to his mind and body when all that metal had been crammed inside of him. It had been restored to a degree by the terrorist, Jael, but there were still gaps in there. He now knew his first name was James, but yet used it only as a matter of formality when dealing with legal documents and the like. He'd always been just plain Logan for as long as he could recall and so it was simply Logan he responded to in casual company.

On top of having a healing factor, Logan also possessed animal keen senses of hearing, smell and sight. He was a human with enhanced feral capabilities and often used them to track people or infiltrate dangerous places. Along with those senses came an aggressive personality and a rough mouth. He was often curt and opinionated, traits the Professor was helping him with, all the better to help him work with the large team living here. He still had a hair trigger temper and critical mind. His codename, Wolverine, was well deserved.

Logan left the trees and circuited the large house, making sure all was well. He passed squads of uniformed young mutants as they patrolled the area. Over the years, the mutant violence had become such that Charles Xavier was forced to militarize the Institute somewhat, teaching his many charges to care for themselves and the house as well. The students here were trained in martial arts and were kept physically fit, all the better to defend themselves. They ran drills and were trained in the defensive uses of their powers. The use of weapons was outlawed although Wolverine had a large stash of them locked away, just in case it ever came down to it. He wasn't about to be hauled off to some mutant concentration camp without a fight.

More and more mutants were being discovered every day and they came here for safekeeping and learning. The Institute was largely a school and the students here well educated along with their military style physical training. The emphasis here was on bettering themselves for the greater good of the community and the belief of peace between the mutants and their human brothers. This was the main ideal of the place, Charles' dream. They were soldiers of the peace.

Those students who excelled at the training were eventually elevated to full X-men status and joined the regular teams out on missions, usually rescue attempts during natural disasters, but also doing their best to stop the anti-mutant rioting by putting up a good front that not all mutants were dangerous. Some progress had been made in this effort, but it seemed as though they were constantly being thwarted by two main anti-mutant factions out there. One of the worst factions was the Outkasts. These mutants were savage and slaughtered innocent humans, mostly in raids on banks and other financial institutions. They weren't above the usual kidnapping or the occasional bombing. They were fueled by hatred, but more so by greed. They had no interest in peace, only the raping of the planet for their own ends. At least their operations were small and singular in their goals — the gathering of wealth, not terrorism. That they left to others.

Indeed, terrorism was the goal of the Outkast's chief rival for attention, Jael. This man's army of powerful mutants had been growing in strength and ferocity over the years. Jael's last big score was the demolition of one of SHIELD's main prison facilities only just last week. SHIELD was an American government agency that handled most of the mutant/human conflicts, or at least they tried to as best they could. Jael was growing steadily out of their ability to control. Jael had some brothers in arms incarcerated there and he'd finally gathered enough forces to lay waste to the place. He liberated his men but also set free some of the worst mutant monsters in the lot. The mayhem that followed had been brutal and was still continuing. It was going to take weeks, but together as a team, SHIELD with the help of the X-men and other superhuman groups, theywould do their best to gather the worst of them and lock them away again, hopefully for good.

Jael presented a threat beyond than just his extracurricular activities, he was seeking Kimble. Jael was a major player in the Game, an event where Masters sought out specially Marked Siskan holograms for their powers and their angels. Each Siskan was supposed to find an angel, a talisman of power. Kimble's angel happened to be a child, his young Mistress in fact, but not all of the angels were children. Some could be machines or tokens of high value. The X-men had received some sketchy details, but it seemed as though the players of the Game were seeking out the angels in order to build a weapon, some kind of machine. By possessing Kimble, the X-men were by default players in the Game. Jael was aware that the X-men possessed him, but wasn't yet powerful enough to take them on. He sent out groups to harass the X-men now and again, but never anyone strong enough to take the Siskan by force. For the moment Kimble was safe, but no one really knew for how long.

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Wolverine made his way to the quad where he lived and passed through the large Common Room, pausing when he saw his teammate Remy LeBeau, codename Gambit, working out on the patio side of the room.

Gambit had taken up a spot in front of the glass doors, warm in the sunshine streaming in. He was a tall slender man, muscular and strong. Long auburn hair was tied back in a ponytail and dangling down his neck. He was dressed in a pair of tight spandex shorts, the only clothing really suitable for what he was doing. He was stretching out and exercising as he often did in the morning before eating, maintaining his flexibility. He had a small mat spread out and was doing some yoga like exercises.

Wolverine watched in quiet admiration as Remy did a slow and careful handstand, balancing himself with ease. Once settled, he next amazed Logan by slowly spreading his legs horizontally across his body until he did a perfect split. At thirty-three years of age, Remy still had the flexibility of a teenaged gymnast. He raised his legs and then did a split again, this time front to back. His elbows never shook nor showed any sign of tiring. Logan couldn't have been any more impressed. He knew Remy was good, but not like this. He must have been stretching all of his life.

"Hey, Gumbo," Logan growled softly, doing his best not to startle his Cajun teammate.

"Bonjour," Remy greeted from his upside down position, not the least bit fazed. Truth was he'd sensed Logan's approach without ever looking in that direction.

Remy was a mutant like everyone else here. He could produce bio-kinetic energy from his body, charge small items, and then hurl them like bombs. He also had his cat like grace and flexibility. It wasn't often that he would fall and not find his feet. He could climb like a monkey and was as stealthy as the best of them. He'd been raised to be a master thief, a life he'd embraced eagerly as it suited his personality and physical attributes.

He'd also inherited another gift later in life. He'd always been sensitive to the moods and feelings of others, it was an important part to being a con man and thief. He was a brilliant seducer and master manipulator. It seemed he had some empathic ability and had put it to good use. That power had received a major boost from his association with Kimble. Kimble was telekinetic, but was an empath as well. His power had influenced Gambit's, making him sensitive to others around him. Remy had sensed Wolverine's arrival simply by "feeling" his body's emotional vibrations.

"When yer done eatin', Chuck's got a mission for us tonight," Wolverine said, heading for the stairs and his own breakfast. Chuck was his pet name for the Professor, only he and Remy were allowed to get away with it, and then only because they refused to give it up.

"Si bien. I'll be up in a minute."

Logan nodded and headed up the stairs, following the glorious smell of breakfast. Karen passed him in the hallway on her way to work and slowed just enough to give him a deep loving kiss before disappearing out the front door. He watched her go, his heart still full of love for her in spite of the passage of time. Once Logan fell, he fell for good.

He made his way to Remy's kitchen, smiling at the children gathered there. He'd never pegged himself as a family man, but having three children of his own had changed that. He was still his usual gruff self, but never around them, no. They managed to reduce him to a great big softie. He spoke gently to them, watching over them protectively, and indulging them more than he would any student under his care. He still expected discipline from them, but was never harsh or cruel. He was a better father than most had expected.

Logan grabbed a plate from the stack and began heaping food on it. He gave a nudge to his niece who was now at the helm, cooking up this marvelous feast. Molly was Remy's young wife, another feral mutant like himself. She was blonde and blue eyed, but was hairy for a girl and had sharp claws and fangs. They made her seem more fierce than she actually was, Molly was generally a gentle creature and very loving towards her family and the kids. She helped Kimble care for the lot, preferring to assist the X-men team in this way as opposed to becoming a fighter.

At an early age Molly had been attacked by another savage mutant, a terrible creature she called the Lion Man. The Lion Man was in fact Victor Creed, the infamous killer known as Sabretooth. He'd slaughtered her mother and twin sister, believing the children to be his own. One of Creed's mental flaws was that he wouldn't tolerate any offspring of his own to survive. Sabretooth, the Lion Man, had slashed Molly's throat and left her for dead. She miraculously survived but had forever lost the ability to speak normally. Karen Richards had discovered her years later and taught her to speak using sign language. They came here to live at the Institute, a psychologist and her feral charge. They had been accepted readily, graciously...Karen was now Wolverine's wife and Molly was married to Gambit. Later on it was discovered that Molly was truthfully the child of Sabretooth as he had suspected, but that information was withheld from her. It was believed she had nightmares enough without knowing that the monster that had so badly damaged her was in fact her own father.

Logan called Molly his niece as an expression of affection, but to a point it was also true. Sabretooth was Wolverine's half brother. Logan watched over Molly as his own, keeping her safe from the outside world and the hateful ways of the norms. Molly was feral enough that it could be seen, she would never be able to pass as a normal human in society. Molly was happy enough here with the children. She and Kimble were fast friends and ran a daycare center in the main house of the Institute, jobs that suited them well.

Logan moved to the table and sat down to eat. He grunted softly in thanks as Kimble passed a cup of coffee his way without being asked. These two hadn't always gotten along, but they had made a kind of truce and managed to live well enough with one another. Kimble was often childlike and immature, a plus with the kids but something the overly gruff Wolverine had a hard time dealing with. He saw Kimble as an adult when at times Kimble was far from it. The Siskan could be easily hurt emotionally and sometimes had bouts of depression and instability. It usually came down to Remy to get him straight. A Siskan needs to be owned to feel right in the world and at one time Remy was Kimble's Master. That title had been passed on to Angel, but Gambit still had to look after Kimble as though he was an unruly teenager stuck in an endless puberty. It didn't seem to bother Remy all that much, but it was tough for Wolverine. He believed in control and discipline, traits Kimble sometimes lacked.

" 'S Remy cummin' up?" Kimble asked Logan as he passed food around to the kids.

"Yeah. Said he'd be just a minute."

Kimble looked up and smiled as the man himself appeared, a towel around his neck. "Bonjour chillen's," Remy greeted to the tiny crowd.

"Bonjour, Uncle Remy!" they cheered back at him.

Remy laughed and sat at the table, happy to be around them. Unlike Logan this one had always desired children. His dream was one of a large happy family surrounding him. He and Molly had been married for about five years now, but for all their trying, so far they had no children of their own. Karen tried to cheer him, saying that since Molly was so young, eight years his junior, her body simply needed more time to mature. Gambit hoped it was so. He loved his wife dearly, he would never leave her, but his dream remained unfulfilled. For now he satisfied himself with the young ones living in his quad, spoiling them all rotten and loving them with all his heart.

"So what's dis big mission, eh?" Remy asked Wolverine, smiling as Molly set a plate of food down in front of him.

"Got some intel that Jael's got a crew stashed in a warehouse down on the waterfront. Chuck wants us to go down and check it out. Not so much ta bust some heads, but he's got an idea that there might be some leads there tellin' us where that sick freak is holed up."

For all their trying, neither SHIELD nor the X-men had ever been able to exactly locate the mysterious terrorist. Logan and Remy had both met him before, but were never able to exactly pin him down. It would be a relief to everyone if they could take him down.

At the mention of Jael's name, Kimble drifted closer to Remy as he worked the kids. He was vibrating nervousness now, something the empathic Gambit could feel. Their bodies brushed gently and wordless comfort was passed on, unnoticed by the others in the room.

**_/ Jael scares me,_** Kimble vibrated.

**_/ Nobody's gonna let 'im 'urt you, cher,_** Remy returned.

Kimble nodded and moved on, satisfied for the moment.

Both Kimble and Remy were empathic in the same way. Gambit had already possessed the gift in a mild, latent form when they had first met. Through much circumstance, exposure to Kimble had boosted that ability and now they were equals. Since they were so close and their gifts so strong, they could communicate almost telepathically with one another. Energy would pass between them, something that all special Siskans possessed, the Kundatesh.

Exposure to the Kundatesh made Remy strong with it as well, a gift from Kimble he'd learned to control over the years, making it his friend. This energy was strong and often spoke to him, whispering its secrets. Remy had given this voice a name, Shi'ow-ri, the Whisperer in Siskan. It helped him to cope with this strange gift and keep his sanity. Being empathic had its dangers, many empaths were overly sensitive to the feelings of others and were prone to violence and suicide.

"When you want me?" Remy asked Wolverine as he munched on a piece of toast.

"Midnight tonight. Meet me out by the oak tree."

"D'accorde. Gambit will be dere."


	3. Chapter 3

(Three)

Gambit woke to the sound of his alarm clock and groaned. He'd taken a nap to prepare for this night's mission, it was sure to be an all nighter. He shut the alarm off but was simply too comfortable to move. He'd been working a lot of hours lately and wasn't getting as much sleep as he really needed.

He looked up as the door opened and Molly slipped in, ready to wake him. He'd been known to shut off the alarm in his sleep and run late and she was here to get him moving. She smiled when he turned to look at her, a playful grin firmly in place on his lips. **_Yeah, you're ready to work,_** she teased. Gambit had excellent night vision and she knew he could see her hands moving in the dark.

Remy appeared human enough on the surface, the only obvious giveaway for his being a mutant was his eyes. They were demonic in appearance, having an all black sclera and red irises. They didn't glow in the dark, but could be downright scary when seen for the first time. Out in public, he often wore sunglasses to conceal them. They did come with a serious advantage, his night vision was pretty sharp, almost as keen as Wolverine's.

"Gambit's always ready," he replied to his wife, reaching out for her and tumbling her into the bed. He had a habit of referring to himself in the third person, a disassociative condition from less happier times. He hadn't always been so fond of himself and had distanced himself from who had become. He'd received help for this from the Professor but the trait sometimes lingered, coming out in his speech. That and a mishmash of French and Bayou he'd learned from his youth in New Orleans. His accent and manner of speaking made him very unique here at the school.

Molly squealed laughter and gave a token struggle as he wrestled her under him. They twisted and struggled playfully against one another for a minute, Molly letting him win of course. Her mutation made her naturally stronger than him, but she seldom used that power against him, it just wasn't fair, she reasoned. Actually she liked to let him win, it usually meant he ended up on top of her and she liked that so very much. Their play gradually changed as it always did, sliding into passion. The growing pile of clothes on the floor pretty much assured Gambit was going to be late for work again.

Remy loved his wife dearly. She wasn't his usual fare, that much was true. He'd been something of a womanizer in his younger days, feasting on the finest of female flesh whenever it was offered. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, it didn't matter. He loved them all. That changed when he fell in love with Molly. She was very young then and far from beautiful but it didn't seem to matter. There was something there he saw in her and it never let him go. He bided his time until she came of age and then asked her to marry him, thrilled when she accepted him readily.

"Je t'aime, Molly girl," he whispered now in her ear as his hands played over her body. He'd made the mistake in the past of not telling his significant others that they were loved, he'd rectified that with Molly early. He told her every day, making certain his words were heard. He never wanted to lose her.

Molly grunted at him, a soft lion's bark in the dark. She couldn't really speak words, but she could make sounds, usually to emphasize her point when she spoke with her hands. Remy loved her sounds, especially the one she made when he finally slid inside of her, making her shiver. That one was real fine.

She'd been a young girl when they married, he was her first and only lover. He'd taught her well over the years, her pleasure becoming his thrill. She never questioned the vastness of his knowledge, she knew he'd done some running around. She'd even expected him to be unfaithful, how could someone that promiscuous just drop all of it for an ugly girl like herself? Yet so far, no other woman had ever turned his head and she would have known it if it had happened. Her senses were as keen as Wolverine's, he'd never get another woman past her.

Molly shivered and voiced her pleasure, aroused even further when Remy's lust for her became so strong, he began to give off vibrations of his desire. She wasn't an empath herself, but she was sensitive to his vibrations, especially when he was really close like this. It had grown over the years and became part of their strong bonding. She would never doubt his love and need for her, she felt it every time they made love. It enhanced their loving and boosted her rush, pretty much ensuring they climaxed almost simultaneously. She'd grown to enjoy this, never realizing just how privileged she really was. Sex with a normal human would feel stale and empty compared to this. Remy's passion surged and he was cumming, pulling her along for the ride and taking her with him. She bucked against him, unable to keep silent as the ripples of pleasure ripped through her.

Remy laughed quietly, enjoying this as much as she did. He'd been very much aware of how he'd affected her, happy to boost her rush. He knew the difference well enough, did Remy. Since Kimble had boosted his empathy, sex for him had never been the same. It was like being high and if he and Molly were particularly active on a given night, he could sometimes become intoxicated on her feelings, drinking them up like wine. God, he loved her.

**_You're going to be late,_** Molly signed after a moment, rubbing her fingers against his palm.

"Wouldn't be de firs' time, won' be de last," he grumbled happily, pulling back from her a bit to nuzzle her breasts. A fine layer of blonde hair covered her body, something she was sometimes embarrassed about, but he didn't care in the least. It made her soft and smooth to the touch, lovely to taste.

Molly giggled at his attention, but gently pushed him off. **_You have to get going. Logan's going to be mad._**

"Non, just jealous. Gambit's got de prettiest girl in de place," he said, meaning it. He obeyed her however and got up, reaching for his clothes. He'd intended to shower before going out that night, but one glance at the clock told him he was going to have to skip it.

Molly squirmed into the warm spot they'd made and snuggled under the blankets. It was now almost midnight and she was tired from chasing kids all day. Remy watched her as he dressed, amazed at how quickly she could fall asleep. She was out cold by the time he grabbed his coat and slid it on. He brushed her hair gently and left, closing the door behind him.

He moved into the livingroom and saw Kimble passed out on the couch, the television still on. The sight of it made him smile. Kimble was dressed only in a pair of loose silk pajama bottoms, leaving his large purple Mark exposed. It was a tattoo that covered his whole chest, a purple woman lying across a long black sword, the Mark of a Siskan who was part of the Game. Remy hadn't learned much about the Game, only that it involved Dognan Masters seeking out as many Siskan Courtesans they could find, specific 'grams that had been specially Marked like Kimble was. Having Kimble in his possession, Marked like this, meant that others would always come to try and steal him away, including Jael. The Mark was Kimble's curse, a sign of his value to anyone who might chose to seek him out. It was a beautiful Mark on a beautiful body. Kimble was the most gorgeous Siskan he'd ever seen.

Remy's relationship with this Siskan was complex. They'd started out as friends, meeting on one of Remy's adventures into the beyond. Kimble had been injured and Gambit came to his rescue, using his ability to produce bio-kinetic energy as a way of healing him. During the exchange, some of Kimble's memories were imprinted on Remy's brain, bonding them closer than brothers. Gambit could now speak the Siskan language fluently and his latent empathic abilities were given a huge boost. It also made him see Kimble for what he truly was, a child wrapped in the skin of a man.

It was hard for the others here to fully understand what Kimble was exactly. He was a sentient computer program given life. That life being driven by an immature, childish mind. Siskans were meant to be protected and sheltered, they hadn't been designed to deal with the harsh realities of real life. They suffered under abuse and hard treatment, something that caused this Siskan here to shatter. Kimble had broken down into four personalities — Zander, an angry personality known as the Punisher and Lakotashay, a bitter, self loathing and suicidal personality known as the Quitter. She was Kimble's pain and the most cruel. She had committed the worst of the Siskan's crimes, murdering three men. There was also tiny Lin, the Confessor. He tried to warn others away, fearful that they would murder or harm someone else. Finally there was Kimble himself, the Lover. This was the main personality of the program and the one now firmly in control, thanks to a repair by the Games Master, a specialist on Siskan holograms that Remy had hunted down. Now Kimble was in Remy's care.

Lakotashay's crimes would not go unpunished. Kimble was actually a prisoner here at the Institute, given a lenient sentence since he wasn't entirely to blame for what had happened. Wolverine had struck a deal with the SHIELD authorities, granting Kimble exile here instead of him languishing in a prison. He was being "rehabilitated".

Kimble had a Mistress now, but it had been Remy who'd first taken custody of him once the deal with SHIELD was made. A Siskan Courtesan needs a Master to feel normal, they are made to serve. It was generally believed Kimble would do better with a Master, so it fell to Remy, the one who understood him best. When Angel came, she took over that role, possessing Kimble in full as he cared for her. On paper Remy was still responsible for him and Kimble lived here with him and Molly for safekeeping.

Before Remy had married, while he was waiting for Molly to grow old enough, he and Kimble had a brief affair. Kimble's mentality had him behave much like a child, but he was a Siskan pleasure program and was driven by a sexual desire as strong as any adult. He could fuck with the best of them, anything goes. He was neither male nor female in his mind, but fate had trapped him in the skin of a man, forever causing him to be judged that way. Remy knew better and it hadn't come in the way of their intimacy.

Gambit wasn't gay or truly bisexual, this was more of an empathic thing. They had bonded so closely and shared so much of the same power that their becoming physically intimate was almost inevitable. Kimble had been very fragile at the time and Remy couldn't help but reach out. Once he had asked Molly to marry him, Remy had put that intimacy to an end. Kimble went along with it, loving Molly almost as much as his former Master. He lived for Remy's happiness and since Molly provided that, he let Gambit go with the promise that he would always be kept near. Of course his wish was granted, it was demanded by the agreement with SHIELD and by Gambit's heart.

So now here they were, the sleeping Siskan and his former Master, living under the same roof. Their lack of sexual intimacy hadn't dimmed their bond, Kimble would always reach out to him first when he was troubled. Kimble was always respectful of Molly's claim on him and there hadn't been trouble, the three of them lived well as they cared for Angel and worked with the team. There was peace in this house.

Kimble shifted on the couch, sprawling onto his back and taking a deep breath before starting to snore softly. The sound of it caused Remy to laugh quietly. His love for Kimble ran deep and the sight of him at peace always made Gambit happy. They had shared so much hurt and pain and now love and peace. Remy would no more let him go than he would Molly.

Kimble snorted soft dreamy laughter and squirmed a little more, a smile spreading across his face. He was having a nice dream, a very happy one judging by the gently rising bulge in his pants. Kimble was aware of it even in dreamland, and without waking, he raised one heavy hand to adjust himself to a more comfortable position. He wasn't wearing any underwear at the moment and his erection stood out now in bold relief against his pajama pants, just begging to be touched and played with.

Simply watching the pilot touching himself was enough to make Remy shiver with a blast of renewed lust he couldn't help. There were times, quiet times like this, that the mere sight of the pilot laying spread out for the taking, so very fuckable, could take Remy's breath away. So much pleasure had come his way from this strange creature, things he'd never imagined he could feel --- love on a scale no human could possibly believe existed without having to feel it themselves. This Siskan had done just that. He'd brought Remy to a place no one else ever had, a place that had been torture to give up. Kimble was a habit that was hard to break.

Gambit took the afghan from the back of the couch and spread it over his Siskan, covering that bright white flesh before temptation could make him give in. He hoped the dream was one of a gentle passionate love, but the truth was, he couldn't be sure. For eight years they'd known each other and the only thing Remy had ever wanted was for his friend to be happy. In all that time, Kimble had taken only three or four lovers besides himself. All of them were men and had beaten Kimble nearly senseless.

Kimble had a terrible, persistent problem. He'd been taken in by Sabretooth years ago and introduced to violent sex. He'd been broken at the time and because of that fracturing, had embraced the life of a submissive, growing to like being raped and physically abused. He saw it as being wanted and desired at a time when he felt he didn't deserve anything better. It appealed to his inner Siskan self, the one programmed to please and serve. Even after the repair, that corruption persisted and still came back to haunt Remy now and again. He'd go out and come back to find an uncontrite Kimble covered in horrible bruises, an oddly contented look on his face. He and Wolverine often sent Kimble's lovers packing when they were eventually found out, but the Siskan didn't make it easy. He protected his abusers for as long as he was able.

This was a way of loving that Remy had never provided in their physical intimacy. Kimble had taught him so many things, talked him into doing things he never would have done with anyone else. Things he had never considered sane, much to Kimble's endless delight. That could never have been done without the level of trust he shared with this Siskan, one that had never faded. Kimble was eager to teach him new things and was a master at eroding most of Gambit's preconceived notions about what was simply too bizarre or outrageous. Remy was a willing and eager student, taking part in most of Kimble's lessons with little or no coercion, but he drew the line at physical or mental abuse. He could never hurt Kimble that way and in spite of Kimble's once requesting it, just couldn't do it. He failed to see the pleasure of it, of humiliating a sexual partner, and tried to get Kimble to see that this was just terribly wrong. Kimble would nod at him politely, but the next time a potential abuser presented himself elsewhere, Kimble was all over it. They never stayed, these secret lovers. Kimble just met them in some clandestine place and managed to keep it all a secret until it was all over.

Remy pleaded with Kimble to find someone a little more sane, someone who would thankfully take him off of his hands. He loved Kimble dearly, but the Siskan never settled down with anybody. How long was Kimble going to drift in limbo like this? It was almost painful to watch, this perpetual loneliness broken up by brutal one nighters once, maybe twice a year. Courtesans needed far more sexual attention than that to be happy, Kimble was merely settling for what he thought he could get. Even after all this time, Kimble didn't think he was worthy of a lover for real, Lakotashay's sense of self loathing and inadequacy still persisted.

It made Remy so very sad. Kimble was such a good person, a good soul deep on the inside, and he deserved so much better than this. He believed Kimble would thrive and mature under the hands of a true lover, one that wouldn't brutalize him or leave him as he himself had. He wanted so much more for his Siskan than Kimble was getting.

Kimble laughed again in his sleep and breathed Remy's name softly. His sensitive body had felt the thief's vibrations of love and affection and they warmed him, making his already pleasant dream that much better. Remy may have moved on, but Kimble surely hadn't. Gambit knew Kimble was still deeply in love with him and probably always would be. He had loved Remy enough to let him go. It was the only thing that had kept this strange three way relationship sane. Gambit had thankfully never been forced to chose between his two favorites. As much as he loved Kimble, he loved Molly more and Kimble knew it.

Remy continued to stare down at his former lover, his thoughts rambling around in his head, making him that much more late. He didn't really care. Kimble was a magnificent creature, a winged alabaster adonis laying here, so pleasantly relaxed. His long black hair was fanned out under him and glimmering in the light from the televison. A baby monitor was placed on the coffee table out in front of him, just in case.

Kimble was very protective of his young Mistress, she was never very far. Lately the Siskan had been nervous and agitated, Angel had begun going to school and he saw less of her. It was part of her growing up, but it unsettled him and he missed her terribly. Remy had been forced to give Kimble more of his time and affection, trying to get Kimble to understand this was part of life and he would just have to accept it. Today had been a good day, Kimble had been calm and his usual cheery self.

Remy gently arranged the blanket over the pilot, careful not to wake him, and clicked the television off. He shut off the lights and left, closing the door behind him.

-------------------------------

Gambit walked briskly out to the oak tree, the meeting place of the team that was heading out tonight. The Xavier grounds were huge and mostly cleared by the house, but there was the one huge tree with the picnic table under it. It was where the teams most often gathered before departing. Of course he was late and the others were there waiting for him. He could see Jean and Rogue standing under the tree, talking to Logan who was crouched up in the branches, his frustration evident in the fact that he wasn't on the ground.

This group was a team and it was obvious in their dress. Logan wore black jeans and a black leather jacket with the X-men logo on the sleeve. The two women wore black leather jumpsuits with short black jackets as well. The leather was all worn in and flexible, fitting them like gloves and making it hard to see them in the black of night. All had the rugged boots and shoes of stealth and secrecy, safety was always a concern for the team and Charles saw to it his people were well equipped with whatever they needed.

Remy was the odd man out tonight. In his haste, he'd grabbed his standard issue working gear and not the matching uniform he would use in a group mission. Instead he had his typical long leather duster covered with pockets for all his tools and small objects for throwing. Under that he wore tight navy stretch pants and a long sleeved T-shirt with detachable gloves. Two fingers of each hand were left exposed, giving him the ability to charge anything in his hands with bio-kinetic energy while still protecting his fingers. Over his shirt, he wore a flexible Kevlar chest plate body armor. Of all the X-men, he was the only one who routinely wore body armor, he had enough scars on his body to show good reason for this.

When Wolverine saw Gambit approach, he dropped down from the tree and crushed out a cigarette he'd been smoking. " 'Bout time ya showed up, Gumbo. We were startin' ta worry," he teased irritably in his low growl. He took in Remy's clothing and scowled. "Didn't bother ta gear up either?"

Gambit just gave him a wide Cajun grin. "Je suis de'sole, mon ami. Didn't mean to ruin de ensemble, eh? Gambit got a little sidetracked is all. Got everyt'ing I need right 'ere."

Logan gave him a sniff, not the least bit fooled by the excuse. "Blamin' Molly fer this one, too?"

Remy grinned sheepishly and shrugged with a loose shake of his shoulders. "She ovulatin', what can I say? You know we been tryin'."

"Uh, huh, right," Rogue drawled, coming closer. She was Remy's ex-girlfriend and had a fiery temper. Her mutation was both a blessing and a curse. One touch of her fingers and she could absorb your personality and memories, making her as powerful as any telepath. If she touched mutants, she absorbed their powers briefly. One such encounter left a permanent transfer, she was invulnerable and could fly, traits she had learned to master. She was a strong brawler and fierce protector of her teammates. Her relationshipwith Remy had been a stormy one and had left her bitter and scarred, they had made peace but she was still wounded and jealous of Molly. She teased the white streak in her hair with one gloved hand and chided with pure Mississippi sweetness, "That's the excuse you gave last week, Sugah. The way you two screw around it's a wonder you ain't got fifty kids already."

"That's enough, children," Logan grumbled. "Let's get movin'. Time's wastin'."

They made their way to the garage and piled into one of the Professor's black Explorers. Logan had taken charge of this little excursion so he was driving. The others all piled in the back and away they went. He took them on a twenty minute drive into city and brought them down to the waterfront. There were some empty warehouses here and small factory buildings, some occupied, some abandoned with smashed out windows. Wolverine pulled into a dimly lit area and parked close to the target, a small factory building a few yards to the left.

"So what we doin', patron?" Remy asked as he peered out the windows, trying to get a feel for the area. He was perfectly still, but was inwardly excited. The only thing better than a quick tumble with Molly was a successful "sneak-and- peek." He was still a thief at heart and always would be.

"Intel has it a small team of Jael's guys have been seen coming in and out of that buildin' right there for the past couple of days. Shakra's been sighted specifically so we know Jael has to be up to something. She's one of his main players and part of that group that just got busted out of jail. This is just a preliminary check. We go in, see if we can find out what they're up to. Our goal is not to engage the enemy, just find out what we can and leave," Logan explained. He turned next to the redhead in the back seat. "Jean, can you pick up anything?"

Jean closed her eyes and reached out with her power. She was born a master telepath, a superb reader of minds. She was also telekinetic which meant she, too, could fly. She had the added bonus of being able to move objects just by thinking about it. This ability allowed her to harden air with a mere thought and create powerful shields. She was one of the more experienced members of the X-men and a valuable player on this little trip. She focused on the building in question, trying to sense the mental presence of those within. "I'm picking up at least five people, all on the second floor. Looks like they're playing cards. One of them is watching the news. It's like they're waiting for something."

"Probably us," Rogue snorted.

"Don't be so pessimistic," Logan grunted. "They have no way of knowing we're here."

"Shakra's there and Razel, the teleporter," Jean continued. "We'll have to be careful."

Logan wasn't intimidated by the news, it wasn't like he didn't expect any complications. He knew that those two were high on Jael's roster and the point of that prison raid last week even though the whole building had been torched. He mumbled, "Let's go in, check out the other floors, see what we can find out. The Cajun 'n me'll go in low, you girls go in high."

"All righty, then," Rogue cheered and opened her door, eager to get this started. Like Remy she liked a good scrap and was happy to be out of the Mansion and working. She knew she was here for her flight capabilities but also because if things got dicey, she could pound the crap out of anyone who gave them any trouble. That invulnerability and extra strength gave her some level of arrogance, she was tall and confident and she got out of the truck and stretched a bit, cracking her neck. The others followed her out and they began.

Jean and Rogue leapt up to the sky in perfect unison. They had worked together often and didn't need Jean's telepathy to move in sync with one another. They took off towards the building, taking in all the information they could gather from above.

Logan and Gambit crept up to the chain link fence that surrounded the factory, looking for a way in that wasn't going to make too much noise. The fence in front of them was high and wrapped with barbed wire. Whoever worked here clearly didn't want visitors.

Trying to keep this quiet, Wolverine took out a small spray can of an acid mixture that was made just for special occasions like this. He used the acid to spray the fence in a wide circle and then pushed on the door he'd made, breaking away the piece of fence in the middle and laying it down. He'd had years of black operations and special forces training in his younger days. He put that knowledge to use now in the service of mutant/human peace. Like Remy, he was the master of stealth and infiltration. His entry made almost no sound.

Remy slipped through the opening Logan had made, careful not to snag his coat on the jagged edges left behind. He smiled in the darkness as Logan moved just as silently beside him. They walked two paces before he heard Wolverine sharply whisper, "Dogs!"

A moment later he heard the click of their nails on the pavement. These beasts were otherwise silent, their vocal cords cut to make them so. In the old days, Wolverine would have been the one to take this challenge head on, silencing the new arrivals forever with his sharp Adamanitum claws. Over the years, the evolving dynamics of the team — and Gambit — had changed that.

Logan waited and watched as Gambit took a step forward, his arms outstretched toward the animals in a peaceful show of surrender. Remy smiled, his red on black eyes gleaming as he saw them come, two large German Shepard mixed breeds. He took a deep breath and reached out with his mind, sending out a powerful vibration of playfulness and fun. **_/ 'Ey, dere, fellas. Gambit's yo' friend. Wanna play, eh?_**

They came closer, their shines sparkling angrily in the black.**_ / Get out! Go away! You don't belong here!_**

Part of his being blessed with the Kundatesh meant that Remy had the ability to see the auras or shines of other living creatures. If it was alive, it had a glow. Someone trained in the art of reading shines could tell a person's mood and intentions from a distance, just by reading the color of their shine. It was a useful tool that Remy had mastered and learned to use to his advantage.

Remy stayed as he was.**_ / Gambit's yo' friend. He love you like de worl'. Wanna play?_**

The dogs slowed their pace, confused. They approached him and he knelt down to their level. He reached out with his hands and they sniffed at him, their tails starting to wag playfully. One noticed Wolverine and showed its teeth in an angry snarl. Remy turned the dog's head back to face him. **_/ 'E's wit me, it's okay. Got sumptin' fo you. 'Ungry?_**

_**/ Hungry, yes. What you got?**_

Remy took a small wrapped package from his pocket. He'd brought some hotdogs laced with sedatives. He wouldn't hurt these animals if he didn't have to, he certainly would do everything to keep Logan from killing them. If Wolverine had come alone, that most likely would've happened. He lay the package down and they ate their treats greedily, their tails wagging while Remy petted them gently.

Wolverine stood quietly by, waiting patiently. He'd rarely seen Remy use his power so openly like this before and he was always a bit awed by it. They all knew that he had the empathy now, that it had come from Kimble somehow. It was just weird to see it used so powerfully like this. These dogs had been prepared to kill them, it was what they had been trained for. They would never have accepted this meat from a stranger, either. He was pleased, he never liked killing animals but accepted it as part of life.

Remy stayed as he was, gently petting the dogs until they grew wobbly and fell asleep, one of them practically in his lap. He lay them down carefully and they moved on.

Remy and Logan crept up to the building, there was a door here by the corner. Wolverine peeked through the glass, saw all was clear, and waved Remy closer. The thief was there, lockpicks in hand. He silently worked the door and they slipped inside, shutting the door behind them.

The first floor of this building was wide and open, made for factory use. It was almost completely empty except for some large wooden crates stacked to one side. The floor was swept and clean, this was not an abandoned warehouse not in use, there had been some activity very recently here. Logan made his way to the crates and sniffed softly, using his animal keen sense of smell to try and guess what was inside. He scowled when he picked up the scent of gun oil and plastique. **_There's guns and explosives in here, _**he said to Remy, using his hands to form silent words in the dark.

There were some advantages in having someone disabled like Molly coming into their fold. They all knew sign language now and often used it in missions like this. Both Logan and Remy could see almost perfectly in the dark, so this form of communication was valuable.

_**There's some labels on these crates. If we can find an office, maybe we can check these against a manifest or something.**_

**_I think there's an office over there, _**Remy replied, gesturing to a row of doors to the back.

_**Let's go.**_

They made their way across the huge room to the doors, their boots silent on the clean floor. They were fortunate that security here was light. There were no cameras and no guards, something that nagged at the back of Logan's mind. This was almost too easy. He paused outside an office door, sitting silently while Remy picked the lock. He was quiet, but was still communicating, this time telepathically with Jean outside. _You girls pick up anything?_

_Not a thing, _Jean replied. _We got some panel trucks, but they're empty. The gang is still on second floor. You're clear. _

_Thanks, babe. Keep in touch._

Remy made a soft questioning noise beside him, he was ready to go in. All four of them were linked telepathically by Jean on this mission, he'd heard the conversation between Logan and Jean as if they were all still back in the car.

Logan nodded and inside they went.

The office was neat and tidy, obviously still in use. Wolverine started checking out the papers on the desk, his almost perfect night vision allowing him to scan the pages without the benefit of a flashlight.

He could see rental agreements and bills with a forwarding address. He took out a small camera and began photographing them. He would take these pictures back to Seth for analysis.

Gambit meanwhile was working the filing cabinets stacked nearby, using another lockpick to tease them open. This sort of work always gave him a thrill. He was like a god, moving with ease through the locked doors of this place, making them give up their secrets. He slid open one last drawer, this one labeled, "Shipping manifests", and gave a hiss of surprise as a blast of damp air came up into his face. He was falling and already losing consciousness when he heard Logan snarl, "It's a trap!"

----------------------

Remy came awake a few minutes later, his eyes burning from the bright lights above. He could tell by the cement floor beneath him that they were probably still in the warehouse and on the first floor. He was still drowsy from the gas and all of his limbs felt weak as if he'd been tied down with lead weights. One small shift in position verified that he'd been tied with hard wire, his hands and feet bound tightly. He squinted in confusion when he sensed the presence of someone beside him. He could see the faint glimmer of a blue shine and taste the scent of...Kundatesh? He opened his eyes a bit wider and looked up into the pale blue eyes of an unknown Siskan hologram. He gasped softly in surprise, Siskans were rare and empathic ones even rearer still. He had no idea why she should be here. **_/ What is dis?_** he asked to his silent partner within.**_ / Shi'ow-ri? Is she real?_**

The answer came not from the Whisperer inside his mind, but from the female sitting beside him. She was breathtakingly beautiful as were all Siskan 'grams, blonde and dressed only in a thong, her nudity a sign of her place in this world. She was here to serve, to obey. Her Mark was clearly visible, a bright red woman laying along a long black sword graced the flesh of her torso. She smiled down at him as she silently replied, **_/ Yes, I am Siskan. /_**

_**/ What you doin' 'ere?**_

For that, she dared to speak out loud in her native tongue. Some thoughts were much too complicated to be expressed through their empathic connection.**_ "You are the human with the Kundatesh. The Gifted One. Word of you has spread through the harem. There is hope that you will come and rescue us before the Master kills us all," _**her voice little more than a hushed whisper, she didn't want to be overheard.

"**_Eh? What?"_** Remy mumbled in Siskan, his surprise at the threat making him speak out loud. _Gifted one? Kill us all? _He had no clue what she was talking about, only that it sounded bad. **_"What you say,_** chere?"

She leaned a bit closer and whispered, **_"You must come and save us all. Only three remain." _**

She wouldn't be allowed to say anything further. A dark shadow blocked out the light as an all too familiar face blocked out the light. The big brown wings and long dangling Mohawk ponytail was a clear giveaway ---- Marcus was here. Like Razel and Shakra he'd been freed from the SHIELD prison and all happy to start trouble. His presence here completed the ring of Jael's elite crew and their full compliment could only mean bad things on the horizon. He was snarling at the Siskan now, "No talking! Is he drained of power?"

"Yes, my Lord," the Siskan replied, her eyes down and shoulders slumped. She was submissive to this man and she wouldn't argue. Her fingers still lay next to those of the thief beside her and she touched him long enough to send,**_ / Help us! Save us!_**

Remy groaned, shivering from the pain and desperation in her plea. Her emotions of pain and misery were more than he could bear in his weakened state and he couldn't even fumble a reply. He realized now just why she was here. Siskan Courtesans required energy to feed, the same as he produced naturally in his body. She was here to feed on him and like she had said, had drained him nearly dry. It made him weak, groggy, and unable to fight.

He turned his head and blinked through watering eyes as he tried to figure out what was going on. Wolverine lay beside him, bound and tied just as he was. The telekinetic Marcus had used wire hangers to tie their wrists beyond tight, more securely than any pair of handcuffs. Logan was half in the bag, stoned on more than the gas that had been used back in the office. His skin was peppered with small needle like darts, gifts from Shakra who sat on a stool behind him. His eyes were half open and a long sliver of drool dripped from his mouth to the floor. He was trying to wake, trying to throw off the drugs with his healing factor, but Shakra wasn't allowing it. If he stirred or gave any sign of moving, she plucked another dart from her arm and shot him with it, injecting him with her powerful neuro-toxins. Poor Wolverine was wasted and of no use to anyone.

Another quick glance revealed that Shakra and Marcus weren't alone. A small group of their mutant friends were standing idly by, awaiting orders. Jean's tally had been a little off. He could see at least six of them just hanging around watching the show. Even if he managed to free himself, he'd never be able to fight his way out of here. It would be up to his cunning. Good thing he had plenty of that.

Shakra noticed Gambit's movement and smiled down at him. "Hey, LeBeau. Long time no see."

"Bonjour. Always a pleasure seein' you again, petite," he rasped dryly, his mouth all numb. It didn't stop him from teasing, "But yo' methods a little extreme neh? Now you know if you wanted Gambit all tied up fo' you, all you 'ad to do was ask."

"Right, like you would just lie down and do me right here. Heard you got yourself a little wifie now, married some dog faced little girl ugly as sin. For shame, LeBeau, I'd've figured you could have gotten something a little better."

He just snorted at her. "I'd t'ink a cosmetically challenged fille like yo'self would understand dere's mo' to life dan a pretty face, eh? Fuck a pretty t'ing anytime, but Gambit, he marry wit 'is 'eart, 'e marry fo' life."

Remy didn't know Shakra that well, but he could guess that someone with her mutation might have a hard time with men. Why wouldn't she? She was covered with poisonous darts. Her comments about Molly had come from her jealousy and he'd just thrown it back in her face. She scowled slightly and he knew he'd been right about her. "Perhaps if she values you enough, she'll give us what we want."

"Oh, yeah? And what's dat, chere? Mebbe we could work sumptin' out instead, you an' me."

"You're coming back with us to Jael's. He's going to bargain you for Kimble."

Remy tried to hide the surge of adrenalin that surged right through him at the words. There had been a few serious attempts on stealing Kimble from the house over the years, but Kimble had been too well protected. Jael was a player in the Game and Kimble a valuable prize. Looked like Jael was getting frustrated by his lack of progress in acquiring the Siskan, he was changing tack.

"It won' work," Gambit argued, looking at her like she was an idiot. "Chuck don' bargain fo' nobody. Not even fo' t'ieves as 'andsome as me. Gonna 'afta do better 'n dat, fille."

"If he won't, I suppose there might be someone else there who will. Your little wifie perhaps?"

"She an X-man. She know de score," Remy replied confidently, hoping to dissuade his captors. He laid on the charm, smiling up at her cleverly and purring, "She ain't gonna do nuthin' fo' you. C'mon, chere. Surely we can work sumptin' out, Gambit's a reasonable guy. Untie me an' we'll discuss dis like reasonable lunatics, d'accorde?"

It wasn't going to work, Remy could see that by the confidence in her arrogant little smile. She turned the rays of that malevolent smirk towards him as she addressed her comrade, "I don't think he's getting it, Marcus. He thinks they won't bargain for him, the silly boy. Sometimes all it takes is the right incentive. They'll bargain for blood. Won't they, darling?"

"Oh, yeah," Marcus replied with a grin. He'd been leaning over the fallen thief and as he straightened, Remy could see that he'd been holding a golf club in his hands. Gambit watched with horror as Marcus next swung the golf club at him, smashing the large bone in his left thigh with one vicious stroke.

Remy howled in pain, unable to keep silent in spite of all his training. He'd always had an excellent tolerance for pain, never wanting to give satisfaction to those who might be torturing him at the time, but this was too much. Wolverine jerked from beside him, roused from his stupor by the scream, but Shakra shot him again with more darts, keeping him quiet. Remy was on his own.

Marcus swung at him again, this time below the knee, and Gambit screamed again. He called out telepathically, desperate for help. _Jean! Rogue! Fuckin' Christ!_

_I'm on my way!_ Jean replied from outside the warehouse, coming to his aid. She was fast, but it would still take her a minute to get here.

Marcus triumphantly dropped the golf club, now wet from Gambit's blood. Remy was shaking violently, his leg one huge agony. When he saw Razel step closer, Jael's personal teleporter, he knew he had to act and it had to be now. They said they were going to take him out of here and he no reason to doubt them. He couldn't wait for Jean and Rogue to figure anything out in the meantime.

"Fuck you!" Remy snarled and let loose with a large burst of Kundatesh, willing it to obey him.

Using the Kundatesh this way was always a risky undertaking. It was empathy, but it was also a force of its own, a kind of potent emotional energy that with enough talent, could be used as a weapon. He had never used his power like this, not in a crowd anyhow, and he wasn't sure just what would happen. He didn't have that much control, but that might be a good thing. What he wanted was confusion and chaos. He got just what he asked for, just not in the way he'd planned.

The Kundatesh spread quickly in the room, an invisible predator, infecting all here with panic and terror. Shakra rose to her feet in shock with a strangled cry, her body going into a defensive mode and shooting off darts in all directions. The fear was Remy's and as such, labeled her teammates as targets. Half of them hit the floor, taken out from her darts.

The sound of their falling was drowned out by an ever increasing roar, Wolverine had been infected by Remy's blast of Kundatesh as well.

"Oh, merde!" Remy groaned. "Dis is goan' be real bad, kids!"

The X-men were quite a crew. An eclectic bunch of fellows, all with their own "unique" talents — and dispositions. Logan, well... He was a power unto himself. His animalistic abilities didn't stop with his senses. When overly distressed, he could at times "devolve" back into that animal, becoming feral and quite savage. Remy's emotions had slammed into his already clouded mind, filling him with only the most basic of thoughts -- Escape, Punish, Destroy.

The fear cranked up Logan's survival mode and his healing factor as his adrenalin surged. The power of Shakra's drugs faded quickly and he twisted, lashing out at her stool with his feet and using it to knock her to the floor. The nearest guard out of commission, he popped his claws on both hands and hacked at his feet, unmindful of his own blood as he sawed away at the wiring there, freeing his legs. Within seconds, he was on his feet and slashing at the crowd with his claws, eager to punish those who had dared to confine him.

Along with his Adamantium skeleton, Logan possessed six large claws, metal blades were hidden in his forearms, but could be "popped" or extended at will past his wrists and out through his hands, always a bit of a shocker to the first time viewer. He'd been born with these claws as natural bony weapons and when the Canadian government coated his skeleton with Adamantium, these claws were enhanced into indestructible blades of death. Three to an arm, they were his primary weapon of choice and using them was second nature to him.

Wolverine's captors had foolishly left his hands bound to the front and he wasn't hampered in the least by the fact that those hands were still joined at the wrists by wire. He was an efficient killer and when lost in the rage as he was now, twenty times deadlier than any rabid dog. The Kundatesh had brought out the animal in him and it was now loose, a deadly engine of destruction lashing out at the nearest target.

Remy cursed as he writhed in agony on the floor. Sure, he had wanted a distraction, but a murderous Wolverine hadn't been exactly what he'd had in mind. This was turning into an ugly mess and unfortunately there wasn't anything he could do about it. It was now possible that not all of Jael's men were going to leave here alive. Gambit wasn't strong enough to free himself from his bonds and he could already feel himself growing fuzzy from shock. The whole left side of his body was numb and he could hardly move.

"Let's bail!" Razel shouted and grabbed at the Siskan female. He was quite familiar with Wolverine and what he was capable of. This mission was a complete wreck and he wasn't about to leave one of Jael's most prized possessions to be taken or destroyed inadvertently. More than that, he wasn't about to stick around long enough to get skewered himself. Razel was a powerful teleporter -- he could transport large groups from one place to another as long as they could touch him. His only limitation was that he could only move what he was in contact with. He winked out in a flash of light with the Siskan girl, not caring who he left behind.

"Leavin' so soon?" Rogue chimed in as she came down from the loft above. She and Jean, the cavalry du jour, had arrived. They were here, but at a loss as to what was happening. They didn't know what Gambit had done, they could only witness the aftermath with a kind of bewildered horror. Jael's people were either passed out on the floor from Shakra's darts or running around, shrieking in terror as Wolverine pursued them, foam pouring from his mouth while he slashed at them in a crazed frenzy.

Marcus at least had some pack loyalty in him. He snatched for Shakra, beating her down with his large feathered wings in an attempt to stop her from shooting him with her quills. He could block her attack with a telekinetic shield, the same tactic he was using now in order to be able to touch her without being poisoned. He snatched at her and took off, heading for the loft and hopefully a way out. Jean met him halfway and they clashed telekinetically, a silent but mind numbing battle. Invisible hands battled in mid air as they pushed against one another.

Marcus was losing, he had his physical hands full with his teammate and he wasn't the greatest at multi-tasking under pressure. "Let me go, you bitch!" he demanded, just wanting to flee. "It's over!"

"Not a chance!"

Jean smacked at him again and he had no choice but to drop Shakra down. His hands now free, he came at Jean more fiercely, but was stopped by a cry from below. Razel had found some courage. He had returned and had a handon Shakra's shoulder, doing his best to avoid her quills. "Get the hell out of there!"

Marcus didn't argue, he turned tail and ran, using his telekinetic power to blast a hole through the wall to get to the outside. It was loud and destructive, the neighbors were sure to notice and call the police. They were running out of time. When Razel saw Marcus had gone, he vanished with Shakra, leaving in a flash of light.

Jean didn't follow Marcus though she could have. Their mission here hadn't been to capture and she still had teammates battling below. Rouge had squared off against two men who foolishly thought that since she was a woman and on the small side they could take her easily. She came at them with her fists and showed them just how wrong they were. All the X-men had strict hand to hand combat training and Logan had taught her well. A few well placed punches had them down and out on the floor in a heap.

The fight was mostly done, but Logan had to be contained. He was still going at it full steam, his claws red from the blood of his victims. He'd mangled two of them quite badly and was working on a third when she came up from behind him and swept him off of his feet. She could see he'd gone crazy from something and needed to be calmed down. She embraced him tightly and used her telepathy to flood his mind with soothing thoughts. "Easy, Logan. It's over."

He struggled at first, but then gradually calmed as she dissipated his Kundatesh induced rage. This wasn't the first time she'd had to do this for him and it felt comfortingly familiar, enough that he didn't fight it at all, but let the rage just dissipate freely. He blinked around him in confusion, he had no memory of anything since they'd been dropped in the office by the gas. "Wh-what the fuck's goin' on?" he mumbled blearily, blinking rapidly as he tried to regain focus. The mission. They had been here for a reason.

Jean dropped them down to the ground lightly, still holding Wolverine up as he bobbled on rubbery legs. He was still a little numb from Shakra's poison. "You and Remy got jumped. You went feral."

He glanced around him, stiffening when he saw the bodies and the blood. Whatever they had been for here this night, it was gone now, washed away in blood and rage. Two of Jael's men lay brutally butchered and would not be returning home to their Master. He might have felt bad at his own violence, but his hands that were still wired together told him otherwise. That and the soft cries of pain coming from his teammate.

The thief was on his side, groaning in misery and gripping his leg. Rogue had abandoned what was left of the fight to come next to him and was cradling his head in her lap. She had freed his trapped limbs and was doing her best to soothe him. Even from the short distance away, Logan could hear the real concern in her voice. They might not be together as a couple, but she still cared for Remy deeply and always would. The sight of him so ready to cry was enough to bring her own tears to the fore.

His head now cleared, Logan could smell the blood and saw the weapon Marcus had used laying on floor nearby. He moved away from Jean to reach for it, but paused when he heard the sound of approaching sirens. "We got company. We gotta get out here."

Jean went to Remy trying to get an idea of his condition. His pants were ripped where he'd been struck and she didn't like the odd angle of his foot, his leg was clearly broken. He was shaking now, trembling from shock and involuntary tears were streaming down his cheeks, though he was doing his manly best not to hitch and cry. He was in agony. Jean used her telekinetic power to create a flat shield of hardened air and slipped it under her teammate, using it like a backboard. She then floated him up and they all towed him out the Explorer, trying to move as fast as they could before the police arrived. Too late, the first cruiser was just pulling up as they got to the car.

Jean set Gambit down easy and took a step towards the cruiser as it pulled in next to them. Two cops jumped out, guns raised. "You there! Hands in the air!"

"You don't see me," Jean replied calmly, focusing her telepathy on the two men. Her telepathy was just as powerful as her ability to make shields and fly. She was a true witch and had no fear as she took control of everything. She wasn't one to pry onto the minds of others but that didn't mean she wasn't above coercion in a matter such as this. Her voice was strong and clear as she demanded, "You don't see me or my teammates. This car isn't here."

The two policemen gasped in surprise, bewildered. What was going on?

"You need to check out that building over there. That's why you're here," she continued, her voice calm and soothing. She smiled with pride as the two cops turned away from her and ran towards the building, their minds wiped clean.

"Let's move!" Logan growled, more than ready to be done with this. What a disaster.

Getting the wounded thief in the car was a bit of a challenge. They ended up laying him on the back seat while Rogue piled into the hatch. Gambit cried out in pain and complained sharply as he was moved, his long legs now an unfortunate disability. His clear lack of humor with the situation only made the others more nervous. If he was in too much pain to mouth off, he was in serious trouble. Jean was forced to use her telepathy on him as well, calming him down into a light sleep. She brushed the tears of pain from his cheeks, always saddened when one of their own fell in battle.

"Molly's gonna pissed when she sees this!" Rogue commented wryly, doing her best not to show just how much she was worried. "Best be hopin' she was ovulatin' for real tonight, this boy ain't gonna be no use for her now!"


	4. Chapter 4

(Four)

Jael's small team of thugs materialized in the short hallway of their lair, grouping together for safety. Razel was there with Shakra and Marcus. Only two others besides them had made it back with them, all newbies that had been picked for this caper, hoping to build their experience as terrorists. Looked like it was a bust. Of the two that made it back, one had been injured and Razel had taken him to the infirmary first. Only one remained with them and he was complaining already.

"What are we going to tell Jael! He's going to kill us!" Timothy was wailing. He'd only been with Jael a couple of months and was fearful of being in bad favor with the boss. He'd gotten his ass handed to him quite nicely by Rogue and he was still a bit embarrassed by it.

"We tell him the truth and suck it up," Razel replied. "You can't hide things from him. It just makes things worse."

His jail time not withstanding, Razel had been with Jael a long time. He knew that Jael could be forgiving if the excuse was satisfactory. He believed that Remy had done something, had used a kind of charm power against them. The fact that the thief was speaking with the Siskan like he had led Razel to believe perhaps his power might be the same as hers. He knew the Master's Siskans had power, it was why it was so great to fuck them when the Master was feeling generous enough to share them.

"Come on," Marcus said. "Let's get Cheeree here back to the harem."

Cheeree, the Siskan hologram that had been dragged along for this trip, wasn't happy. She'd done her best to get a warning out to the Gifted One, but she doubted he even understood what she'd said. Jael had many spies, some devoted exclusively to Xavier's camp. As information was gathered, some of it trickled back to Jael's harem of Siskans. Word had come of an alpha who had been "touched" by a Siskan in his care and given the Kundatesh. This had happened before, but it was very rare. It was a sign of a close bond, of a human who looked at a 'gram and saw their soul. This alpha was supposedly very handsome and had bright red eyes like a demon. The description had been apt, he'd been lovely — at least until Marcus had beaten him. Then the whole thing had turned very ugly indeed.

Things had been ugly here, too. Jael had grown bored and annoyed with such a large harem of Siskans. Courtesans needed constant attention, something he just didn't have the time for. He shared them, but only with a select few, he was jealous of his Siskans as well. Poor Cheeree had watched in horror as some of her brothers were taken away, never to return. Jael was open sexually as all the Dognan were, but generally preferred his partners to be female. All the Siskan 'grams that weren't so eager to please him had been removed --- permanently, if the rumors were true. Jael had gone from eleven Courtesans down to three. Jael was keeping only his favorites. Those that were left lived in an almost constant state of terror, stumbling over themselves to please the Master when he came.

Cheeree was afraid. Of the three that were left, she was the only one that had found her angel. That meant her value was significantly less than the others. Each Courtesan of the game was fated to find an object, something they called an Angel. While Kimble had found an Angel in the flesh, Cheeree had found a series of clasps, ones that looked innocent enough, but they bound together other angels that previous Siskans had found. Those Angels that were objects and not living were taken by the Courtesan's Mastersand incorporated into a machine called a Shalayesk. The more Angels placed into the machine the more powerful a player each Master became, which was the point of the Game. It was a glorified scavenger hunt with the winner becoming the most powerful. Oh, how proud the Master had been of Cheeree, he took her clasps and now they were part of the machine he was building. Since then he came to her less often, devoting his time to her sisters. Their angels were as yet unfound.

Cheeree wanted to be freed from her enslavement to Jael. It was the only way to ensure her survival and that of her sisters. She prayed hard to the Great Spirits every day, pleading with them to let the Gifted One win the Game. Even as he lay there befuddled and in pain, she could see his radiant shine. It spoke of his great heart, of his kindness...of the fact that he saw her as a real thing. His Kundatesh voice had spoken to hers, saying how this was so. How she prayed for a Master such as this! All her life she had been passed from one Master to another, always a possession, nothing more. She desired so much more than that, all Siskan Courtesans did, but so far, it had not come to pass.

Cheeree spoke of none of her woes as she was tugged along down the hallways back to the harem. She hated to be away from her sisters, but mostly, she hated it out here. She disliked Jael's lair. It was a true lair in an animal sense. Jael favored cave like structures and if he couldn't find them already made, created them himself. This lair was currently located under a small island out in New York harbor. The entrance was hidden by trees, the rest was all underground and hidden from view. Jael had a team of mutant excavators build this place for him. It was an elaborate system of caves that covered almost one square mile under the harbor itself. There was even a special hanger that had been made for Jael's ships -- he could launch from the harbor floor and with the cloaking devices he possessed, never be seen at all.

SHIELD in reality couldn't even come close to wiping him out. Jael had been busy all these years, building and consolidating his power. He had three such installations in America and several more worldwide. All the world saw was a mad bomber, but Jael was so much more than that. He was simply biding his time until it was the best time to strike. Jael was a patient man, he wouldn't be where he was if he hadn't been.

"Ughh! What stinks!" Timothy whined again.

"It's Grog. That sick freak," Razel replied with a sneer.

They had come to an isolated area of Jael's lair. Nearby was an opening in the cave wall, revealing a large cave room, much like a lion's den. The opening was barred in, creating a large cage. Inside this cage a creature dwelled, a mutant crazed beyond reckoning. This was Timothy's first trip by here and he wasn't careful. He was much too close to the bars as they passed and quick as a wink, he was grabbed.

Timothy squealed in shock and surprise as he was slammed up against the bars, a filthy, slender arm around his throat. Jagged claws scratched at him and then he was being licked, his blood filling the mouth of another. He flailed wildly, frantic to get free. His power was meaningless here, he was simply well above average in dexterity and agility, a natural gymnast. He was skilled in hand to hand fighting and had dead on accuracy with throwing weapons. None of that would help him now. Grog had him twisted up against the bars in such a way that he had no leverage. That and the monster was brutally strong.

"Sheehee. Tasty bits, yesss," a sharp feral voice hissed in his ear. "Mrr! Eat you!"

Timothy screamed in terror and proceeded to wet his pants, the only part of his body that was functioning normally. He was very young, still a teenager, and had never been this close to certain death, not even back at the factory with Wolverine. There was no escape here however, the hot breath in his ear and the raspy tongue at his neck pretty much confirmed that.

"Let him go, Grog!" Razel ordered, coming closer. "Drop him or Shakra drops you. Your healing factor won't stop her from putting you down, fucker!"

"Tit for tat! Trade me! Mrr!"

Razel grumbled and went to a small cabinet next to the cage area. Here Jael kept Grog's treats. Grog was a mutant like any other here, but he was kept more like a pet. In actuality, he was Jael's personal garbage disposal. If Jael wanted someone gone, he tossed them in here and watched the show. Grog would hunt them down and feast on flesh as human as his own. He was a small blonde monstrosity, a viscious cannibal kept for his amusement value. Jael just loved to watch, he was such a fool for this sick shit. Razel opened the cabinet, revealing a fish tank filled with large white rats. He pulled one out by its tail, unable to hide his disgust as it dangled uselessly from his fingers. "Here you go, ugly! Let Tim go!"

Grog released his prey, shoving him out into the hall. He danced now along the bars of his cage, his blue eyes eager for the hunt. He was naked as the animal he was, his hair long and filthy as it hung down from his head. He had a long beard, something as civilized as shaving had been lost to him long ago. Once a week a crew came here and hosed out his cell, that was the closest he came to being washed. It had been a while, the floor of the cell was littered with bones and shreds of clothing, small bits were tangled in his hair. He was filthy and as hideous as his quarters, a human monster.

"Mine!" he snarled and reached out greedily for the rat, showing surprisingly heathy teeth for a creature as dirty as he was. It was a sign of his healing factor. Like Wolverine, he could heal rapidly from any injury and his food would never turn his stomach, no matter how rancid.

"Ha! Like I would reward you for being such a fuck up!" Razel sneered. He turned his back on Grog and replaced the rat back in the tank. It would live to see another day.

"Nnnoo!" Grog howled, throwing himself against the bars of his cage, his evil face made even more so as it was contorted with rage. He thrust his hands through the bars and clawed out at the teleporter. "Mines! Mines!"

"You asked for it, here you go!" Shakra replied, letting fly with her poisonous quills.

Grog shrieked in angry frustration as he was pricked. He was still complaining even as he hit the floor. Her neuro-toxins would put him down, but his healing factor would keep him awake. It was more of a disability than an asset here. Her poison made it difficult to breathe. He would be here for the next ten minutes, wheezing for air while she walked away, laughing.

Cheeree shuddered and sobbed, the whole thing a sick nightmare for her. She had an aversion to violence as did most Siskan Courtesans and the sight of Grog and the rasp of his voice terrified her. She wasn't allowed to flee, Marcus held her tightly, whispering soft comforts in her ear. She knew he didn't really mean them, his body was vibrating lust, not real concern. He was hoping Jael would let him use her tonight and didn't want her to be too stressed out to do for him properly.

Timothy was dusted off and the group went on their way. The first men's room they passed had them leaving Timothy behind. He was embarrassed that he'd soiled himself although no one gave him any shit about it. The truth was, Grog made most of them uneasy and they had all been thinking that it was better him than themselves. He mumbled an excuse and disappeared, looking for an escape. He didn't want Jael to see him this way.

Cheeree was delivered to the harem room and left behind as well. The harem room was another large cave like Grog's, only this was finely furnished with elaborate beds and love tables, all designed for the pleasure of the users that came here. Everything was expensive silk and satin, all red and lovely as the creatures who resided within. Cheeree was greeted warmly by her Courtesan sisters and put immediately to work. There were clients here, mutants that Jael had given favor to this evening. Cheeree would have to wait to tell her sisters of her adventures, she wouldn't speak of it in front the clients.

"Thank God that's over," Shakra said. She'd been the most disappointed at Jael's decision to destroy the other Siskans. Two of them had been splendid males and she'd used them often. As Siskans and not being organic, her poisons didn't affect them at all and they were free to touch and to please. Now they were gone and she hadn't been impressed with the ones who were left. They could shift skins to the male, but were still much too feminine for her tastes.

"Poor Shakra. You're all left out," Razel playfully teased. He'd known about her disappointment and teased her about it often.

"Go fuck yourself, Raz!" she snapped irritably.

Marcus came to her, sliding his hands around her waist. "Don't fret, dear. There's always little old me if you like."

Marcus' ability to create protective shields would work in his favor, she knew this, but he was far too arrogant and in love with himself for him to be attractive to her. She liked her men a little more submissive and eager to please. She grinned at him evilly. "You know what they say about big men with big wings? In your case, it isn't true. I need a little more than you can provide."

"Cunt!" Marcus snarled and gave her a shove.

"C'mon, you guys. Let's get this over with," Razel complained, gesturing to the throne room. They were very near Jael now and he wanted to finish this.

-------------------

The others quieted and they approached the throne room with much nervousness and trepidation. They would let Razel do the talking, he knew best how to say things in such a way that Jael would be more forgiving and willing to be lenient.

The throne room was a massive cave, the largest here in the lair. It was aptly named, at the back was a huge wooden throne covered in soft furs. More skins were piled up on the floor all around with pillows, Jael would hold audiences in here, but wanted his visitors to be seated lower than himself --- Jael was an arrogant man. The walls were covered with fine cloth tapestries depicting dragons and war scenes, giving the room a regal air. Beside the throne on the floor was a large silver broadsword. Jael was a warrior and knew his weapons well. He was seldom found without one near.

The man himself was seated on his throne, a creature more lion than human. He was a half human, half Dognan prince, large and powerful. He was easily three hundred pounds of solid muscle and fur. He was always warm and so dressed lightly, today he was wearing a fine white sarong with a cloth drape down the front. His body fur thinned out over his chest and arms, showing large elaborate tattoos. He'd been born and raised on Cerise --- a planet where the Dognan had once ruled.

The Dognan were a race of men that looked like lions and were fierce and warlike. They roamed from planet to planet, conquering worlds and reaping their vast resources. His father was a Dognan King who had a sexual weakness for the flesh of his human slaves, his pilots in particular. Pilots were humans that had been forcibly mutated into the shape that Kimble now possessed --- white skin, wings, and the crooked hind legs of a cat, little white Dognan wannabes. They were called pilots because their mutation had made them telekinetic and the producers of bio-kinetic energy called Ristle. They were placed in the finest Dognan ships and were living batteries, fuel sources for the great Dognan engines. Their telekinetic ability made them controllers of the flight, they were integral to the ships and the Dognan couldn't fly without them. Put enough pilots together, and they could produce a burst of Ristle energy strong enough to jump dimensions, allowing the Dognan access to many worlds. All real pilots were female and so was Jael's mother.

Jael's father was later murdered and his pregnant mother escaped to live with the Clan, a race of ex-Dognan slaves who had escaped and formed their own society. Not all the Dognan slaves were pilots, most were simply humans who had been given enhanced strength and longevity.

Jael thrived in this new environment with the Clan. He'd proven himself there and rose in the ranks, but was refused its highest post — First General — because of his Dognan blood. Enraged, he left there, stealing some of the Clan's finest pilots. He used them to jump dimensions to this world. He'd heard that this was the place where the alphas came from and saw an opportunity. Perhaps if he gathered enough of them into an army, he could take over this world as the Clan had Cerise. He would then be better than any First General. He would be King.

Jael now regarded his returning minions as they entered his Throne Room. He was silent as they approached, waiting until they were properly seated before beginning. He was pleased with this particular crew even though he had already guessed the news wasn't good. These three had been in his employ since he had first come here to this planet and rarely failed him, he wouldn't have bothered to get them out of prison if they weren't worth the trouble. They were his best men, Shakra included, and he was eager for what they had to say.

"Did you succeed?"

"No, my lord. They were too powerful," Razel answered, trying not to cringe in fright. He knew his status here might protect him, but the last thing he wanted was to argue with his boss. Jael was large and intimidating, regal and not to be toyed with.

"Explain."

Razel rose to his feet, comforted by the fact that Jael hadn't gone off. He relaxed and gave his Master a slow and careful explanation of that night's events, sparing no details. He spoke of his belief that Remy had used some kind of empathy to drive Wolverine insane. It had been an effective attack and three of their comrades had been slaughtered. Razel was hoping that since they hadn't been briefed on this unexpected new capability of Gambit's, Jael might be forgiving.

"Hmm," Jael grumbled, rubbing his chin with one brown, clawed hand. His head was massive and fully Dognan in its lion like features. His eyes were those of a cat, green and twinkling with intelligence. "I'd been told he had been affected by his Siskan this way. I had no idea he was that capable with it."

"We did our best, my Lord," Razel said, inwardly hopeful. "If we could gather a larger group of men..."

"Won't be good enough," Jael replied. "Another tactic might be in order."

"My Lord?" Razel asked, but he could see Jael was lost in thought. This was a good sign. If Jael was going to flip out, he would have done it already.

"Leave me," Jael ordered, wanting only to be alone. "Play with the Siskans if you want. Your failure will be excused...this time."

"Thank you, my Lord," Razel said with a bow and fled, taking the others with him before the man on the throne could change his mind.

Jael watched them go, smiling. He appreciated Razel's fear, it meant his authority was still firmly in place. Now, to the task at hand.

He had been trying to get his paws on Kimble for years now and wasn't succeeding. He hadn't been giving Kimble his full attention, that was true, not while he had been so busy building his power base. It was time to rectify that. Kimble bore a purple Mark, he was more valuable than any of the Siskans Jael currently possessed, even the two without angels. Jael had first thought it would be better for him to acquire Kimble before jumping into the Game more fully. The problem was, the Xavier mansion was too well defended. All attempts to snatch Kimble from there had ended in embarrassment.

He simply didn't possess enough firepower.

Clearly what he needed to do was move on to the next step of the Game and deal with Kimble later. The further into the Game he played and the more Siskans he acquired, the more powerful he would become. Sheba, his next opponent in the Game, was very close by. In fact she'd even sent him a personal challenge – she was coming here to fight him. All the better. He would defeat her easily, he believed. He would defeat her and with her Siskans finally be able to begin seriously building his Shalayesk machine. This machine was the product of all the angels he'd collected from his Marked Siskans over the years -- the point of collecting all those pesky creatures -- and also the point of the Game. Once his machine was built, he'd deal with those pesky X-men and steal Kimble once and for all.


	5. Chapter 5

(Five)

The black Explorer pulled up at the Mansion and came to a stop. Jean was the first one out, she was best to manhandle the now limp and unresisting Gambit from out of the back seat. She paused when the front door of the house opened and Henry came out carrying a portable medical kit. Henry McCoy, codename Beast, was the Xavier Institute's chief doctor. He was very much a mutant — he was covered in bright blue fur and had the face only a mother could love. He looked like a large hairy troll with the fangs and pointy ears to match. He was however a very gentle man and intelligent beyond measure. He had designed many of the X-men's special machines and hardware, most notably their medical equipment. With the arrival of Kimble from the beyond, he'd had an opportunity to combine some Siskan technology with his own, making the Xavier Institute one of the best kept technological secrets around.

Behind him was a bristling and snarling Molly. She had gone a bit feral at the news that someone had been injured. When she learned it was in fact her husband, she was even more agitated. "Easy, Molly," Beast tried to soothe. "I'm sure he's okay. Relax."

She didn't listen, but shoved past him and bullied her way over to the car, wanting to see for herself. She was growling and grunting, making more noise than she usually did. Molly had a bit of a temper when roused and it was best to give her some space. She was stronger than a normal human of her size and had sharp claws and fangs. She was in a mode to protect right now and teetering on the edge of violence. Jean had acted quickly and now had Remy down to the grass where Molly could reach him easily. She could control Molly telepathically just as she had Remy but thought it would be better to just let Molly inspect the damage for herself and calm down. Gambit wasn't injured so severely that he couldn't wait.

Molly came to Remy's side and made a soft questioning noise, a gentle lion's cough.

Remy's eyes fluttered open, Jean had released him enough to wake. He was in pain, in a fog of agony, but yet managed a smile for his wife. Her presence had warmed him and he was able to put all of his misery aside for her. "Bonjour, my Molly girl," he rasped, reaching out for her. "Vous estes mon ange manifique, le voleur de mon coeur. So glad you 'ere."

Molly sobbed once and hugged him tightly. When he grunted in pain, she backed off at once and sniffed at him. She coughed again and began searching him with her hands, checking him out. She grimaced and showed her teeth in anger when she smelled his blood.

"It's my leg," he explained quickly, not wanting to be jostled any more than he needed to be. " 'Enry will take care of it. You come down wit me, make sure 'e do a good job, d'accorde?"

She nodded her assent and retreated to one side, letting Henry come closer.

"Just tell me where it hurts," Beast said with a grin.

"C'est mauvais. All over, twice around," Gambit replied, sounding far more cheerful than he felt. It was only because Molly was ther and he didn't want her to know just how bad he really felt. "Fuckers busted up m' leg sumptin' awful."

"Choice of weapon?"

"Fuckin' golf club."

"Oh? Did he make par?"

"Oh, you some comedian, mon ami."

"All right," Henry said, his hands moving over Remy's leg with a confident swiftness. His fingers found the cut that was causing the bleeding, but he soon saw it was minor. A couple of stitches would put it right. He was more concerned about the bones, he could feel that the breaking was severe. "That's it? Anything else?"

"It enough," Remy replied, his voice growing soft from shock. His hands were trembling and things were going fuzzy again.

"Let's get him inside," Henry commanded, not liking this one bit.

Jean used her power once more to raise her poor wounded teammate and bring him up into the house. They were joined by more of the X-men crew as they made their way through the large Mansion to the elevator that would take them below ground where the medical center was located. This was a place for mutants to live, but it didn't mean anyone living here had full access. Each member was given a plastic badge like a credit card. It had to be swiped though various security boxes located throughout the facility in order to move about freely. The lower levels were particularly secure. Here was where all that yummy technology was hidden carefully away.

Remy groaned softly as he was swiftly carried down into the medical bay and placed carefully on a bed. Henry took a minute to grab a phone and buzz the Lucky Dragon, a spaceship parked in the hanger bay not far from here. A sleepy voiced Seth answered the phone. "Yello?"

"Seth. Could you please wake Maylee and have her come down? I need her assistance. Remy's been injured."

"Oh!" Seth squeaked in surprise. "Is he okay? It's not serious is it? Should I come, too?"

Henry chuckled softly, amused by Seth's concern. Remy was one of Seth's closest friends. "Come if you like, I'm sure Fallen couldn't keep you away. Just make sure Maylee's on her way."

"I'll get her right away!" Seth said and hung up, not bothering to say goodbye.

Henry returned to the task at hand and got Remy situated while he waited for Maylee. Maylee was his chief nurse and one of the best on his staff. He had trained her himself and they worked best together. She knew the machines well and would help him get Remy X-rayed. For the moment, he was more concerned with stabilizing his patient. He worked swiftly, getting Gambit undressed and an IV in place. It was hard working around Molly, she was being very possessive and wasn't letting go of Remy's hand.

Maylee arrived a minute later, dressed in hospital greens and looking a bit sleepy herself. She had just ended a late shift down here, helping Henry update his medical files. The school was growing all the time and it was hard to keep everyone logged properly in the computer. Maylee was an interesting creature. She was half Dognan herself, not unlike Jael in her appearance. Her body was covered in soft brown fur and her face was like that of a lioness, her eyes green and slitted like a cat. She was very intelligent and had learned her craft at a young age. She knew her place here and went right to work, warming up the diagnostic machines without having to be asked.

Behind her were the other two occupants of the Lucky Dragon, Fallen and Seth. Fallen was a Dognan pilot, the only real one here. Kimble may have looked the part, but she was one in the flesh. She was a small woman, bleached out white all over from her terrible changing. She had once been a normal human but was kidnapped by Dognan slavers and converted into this new form. She was an accomplished telekinetic and could produce a powerful form of bio-kinetic energy called Ristle. She had the wings of a bat and the crooked hind legs of a cat, showing she was human no longer. She was lightly dressed, a small bikini top showed her brilliant green tattoo --- The Honor Sword of the Clan.

Fallen had been living among the Clan when the X-men crossed paths with her. The X-men had been kidnapped by Dognan slavers and taken to Cerise, a port stop for the Dognan and home of the Clan. The X-men wanted desperately to get home. She was currently First Pilot of the Clan and the most powerful pilot of all the ones living there. She alone possessed enough Ristle capability to jump dimensions on her own. She was responsible for returning the X-men back to their home and in return they let her stay with them as a member of the team. The Lucky Dragon was her ship and she had used it bring them home. She lived in the hanger bay and was sometimes visited by her foster daughter, Maylee.

Maylee had come along with Fallen from Cerise, but she wasn't the only one. Kimble had been there and his brother Seth. Kimble was a living hologram but he hadn't always been that way. Years ago, Fallen had found him on a shelf in an dusty corner of a Clan storeroom. He'd been severely damaged, nothing more than a personality stored on a battery, and Fallen, being unusually clever for a pilot, thought to save him. Most pilots were little more than well trained dogs, but Fallen was in full control of her mind. She was brilliant when it came to machinery and a Siskan Courtesan hologram was nothing more than a machine to her. She was a lonely creature and thought that a Siskan personality installed into the computer systems of her ship might provide her with some company. She worked on the Kimble hologram, but found that his personality had been corroded beyond her ability to repair. In an anything goes move, Fallen built a secondary personality to breach the gaps and Seth was created. The two Siskans bonded and became twins, joined by the program codes that bound them together. Kimble wasn't just an ordinary hologram, but Fallen hadn't known that at the time. He was Lushna-esk, an empathic 'gram and gifted. He was sentient beyond normal Siskan Courtesans and some of that was passed on to Seth.

Seth had inherited an incredible intelligence, especially when it came to computer systems. He began working on the codes he shared with his brother, the end goal being total separation. In the meantime, he was fast falling in love with his Mistress, something Kimble could see. He thought it was a hoot and encouraged it, prompting Seth to continue working on their codes. Seth desired only to be freed from her ship's computer system and live with his Mistress always. Fallen wasn't opposed to the idea. She had loved them both, enjoying their companionship. She gave them both fine pilot skins, modifying the female skins to male and creating two creatures unique from any other in the world. She did give them some differences from each other. Seth was all white like she was, but Kimble was given long black hair. As an added bonus, Fallen also gave them her Mark.

Fallen was First Pilot of the Clan and as such, she had earned the right to have their finest tattoo. A large emerald woman spread along the length a long black sword was tattooed on her chest. Like the rest of the Clan, she had no idea that this Mark had in fact been stolen from the Game. It was the Mark of a Channeler, of a special Siskan that could channel plasma energy through a sword with explosive results. She had unknowingly Marked both of her Siskans as tokens of the Game. Time and circumstance finally allowed the brothers to be separated from her computer system and both now walked free. It was later learned that Kimble was in fact part of the Game, but as a Rogue and not a Channeler. Kimble's Mark had been changed to its proper purple, but Seth's remained intact. Seth hadn't wanted to give it up. He saw it as a Mark not of the Game, but of his Mistress' possession of him. To him it was better than any wedding ring, a large permanent reminder of his love for his Mistress. Their Marks were the same, it was a bold statement of belonging as far as he was concerned and he refused to give it up in spite of the potential danger. There was always a concern that Seth might get nabbed by mistake as part of the Game, but he felt that his powerful pilot Mistress would keep him safe.

Back in the Medical Bay, a fearful Seth stood behind his Mistress, hiding his concern by holding her in his arms and resting his chin on her shoulder. He was timid and shy, not outgoing like Kimble. He was content to isolate himself down here and play with Henry's wonderful machines. He had integrated much of his Siskan knowledge with Beast's computers, boosting their capabilities. His separation from Fallen's ship hadn't come without cost. He was easily swamped by too much sensory output and had to wear tinted glasses to dim the bright lights around him. He was easily frightened by noise and violence and the sight of Remy's poor battered body made him shiver.

"He'll be okay," Fallen said, leaning back against him.

On the table, Remy was quieting, laying back still as he was being worked on. He was aware of Molly next to him, but he was also aware of Seth's distress. Seth might not be empathic as his brother was, but he had a shimmer, one Remy could see and read. He could see the distress but also the love for him there, love with a heavy dose of hero worship that had not faded over the years. Seth would always feel this way, Remy had been the one who saved his brother from the terrible outside world, had taken him from the clutches of the madman Sabretooth. Gambit had even gone and brought the Games Master here, Kimble had been fixed. None of that would have been accomplished without Remy's undying faith that Kimble was worth saving, a person of high value. There weren't many here who felt that way about Kimble, not many at all.

Gambit knew these were Seth's thoughts, just as he was somewhat embarrassed by them. He'd done what he felt was right, he would have done it for anyone. Remy felt that Seth's feelings were a result of his lack of exposure to the world. Fallen kept him isolated and removed from almost everything, to the point of smothering, Remy believed. Seth pretty much stayed on the Dragon or worked in Henry's lab, that was it. He didn't go outside, he had never once left the grounds. Gambit thought Seth should be allowed out more to explore but Fallen wouldn't have it. That was what had gotten Kimble into so much trouble. The same mistakes would not be made with Seth. They had argued briefly over it, Remy and Fallen, but he backed down for Seth's sake. The shy Siskan was easily rattled, just as he was now.

"Je suis bien, fils," Remy whispered, looking Seth in the eyes. "Gonna be jus' fine."

"D'accorde," Seth returned, using soft French to tease. He and Remy were close friends and he'd heard more French than he could ever decipher over the years.

Molly heard his words and looked up at him, smiling at him for comfort. She had grown to love this one as much as Kimble, seeing how both had stolen Gambit's heart. She wasn't book smart and would never understand just what it was about these Courtesans that had enchanted him so. To her they were real people, as real as anyone else around her. She wasn't aware of how just that simple acceptance made her different from others here. Not everyone saw them as more than lively holograms.

"Let's get Remy in X-ray," Henry barked, wanting to get this done. Gambit was stable and out shock, a good time to get him analyzed and his leg set.

---------------------

It was several hours later when Remy opened his eyes from a deep sleep. Henry had wrapped his poor broken bones into temporary casts and had given him something to sleep. Both the big bone in his thigh and his tibia down below had been fractured from Marcus' cruel treatment. He had required emergency surgery. Henry was a decent surgeon, but he was more of a "patch 'em back up and get 'em going" kind of hack, he was no specialist. He had been forced to call in a favor from a doctor friend of his and the guy came down to help out. Remy now had two metal stainless steel plates and an assortment of screws in his leg, one for each big break, to hold all the shattered pieces together. He would have weeks of grueling physical therapy to look forward to as well.

Gambit had been damaged on the job before --- it came with the territory --- but it was going to take him some time to recover from this one. He could see a small shimmer dissipating from beside him and he knew that Molly had just left him. The spot next to him on the bed was still warm from where she had been lying beside him. It was afternoon now the following day and she had chores to do. He rubbed his hand over the spot, letting the last few sparkles of her shimmer of love slip into his skin, warming him.

"She loves ya."

Remy quirked an eyebrow at the voice and turned his head to see Kimble sitting in a chair behind him. " 'S dat so?"

"Yup. I gots it on good authority," the Siskan teased with a small smile. It didn't hide the worry in his eyes nor the vibrations of concern he was letting off. He had only just arrived here, trading places with Molly so that the daycare center was still covered. He hadn't liked what he was seeing now, not one bit. Gambit was suffering.

"Den I guess it must be true," Remy replied, not missing a beat.

"She ain't the only one."

"Oui. Gambit a popular fella."

"So popular he keeps gitten busted up? This is the third time this year."

"Yeah well, Gambit just gotta choose 'is enemies a little better, n'est ce pas?"

Kimble's mouth was still smiling, but his pale blue eyes were weary and pained. His voice was tired as he said, "They done this ta git ta me."

"Non, it was on account dat Gambit 'ad to turn down another fille barkin' up 'is tree, is all. Too bad de femmes out dere, dey jus' can't accept dis po' boy's 'eart is taken," Remy teased, his red eyes merry. He was hoping a joke would lighten Kimble's mood.

It didn't work. "Joke all ya wants, it don't hide the truth. Someday Jael's gonna come an' burn y'all outta here ta git ta me. Yer blood is on my hands."

Remy squinted in growing agitation at Kimble's words. It was so typical of Kimble to turn this around on himself. Kimble was highly emotional and prone to melodrama. He took everything personally no matter how many times he'd been told that it wasn't his fault. The problem was, Gambit felt responsible for this poor demented Siskan problem child and no amount of time was going to change that. Many long conversations he'd had with Karen about this, hoping her expertise in psychiatry would help him. She gave him lots of warm hugs that begged for patience. _Think of him as a mental patient, it's the only way to cope. He was fractured and repaired, he just doesn't think clearly sometimes, _she offered. _I'll try to help you as best I can, but what he needs most is understanding and patience...and a lot of love, of course._

The love wasn't a problem, Gambit had plenty of that. Since the file sharing that changed his life and Kimble's forever, he was bonded to Kimble as close as brothers, even more than that with their shared intimacy. What Remy sometimes struggled with was patience. They had just gone through this a little over a month ago when some of Jael's people stopped by for the usual dance and he'd gotten cut. It wasn't bad, it just took a stitch or two, but Kimble had gotten upset. It had taken a few days to get the pilot straight and Remy had been hoping for some peace for a while. It didn't look like it was going to happen, he could see the guilty gleam in Kimble's eyes and the despondent slump of his wings. The thought of having to go through another "Don't blame yourself" conversation right now wasn't the least bit appealing to the stricken thief. He could feel his head start to ache at the thought of it. Still, he offered in his best soothing voice, "No blood's been spilt yet, fils. We all still 'ere lookin' after you."

"I should leave."

"Don' be an ass. Dere ain't nowhere fo' you to go. You an' Angel gonna stay put, dat's an order."

"You ain't m' Master no more, Remy. Yer words ain't got no sway over me," Kimble said softly, a shadow of regret and jealousy passing over his shine. He was still in love with Remy and always would be. It was this love that made him give Remy up. He knew his love would never be enough to keep Gambit at his side and so let him go when it was asked of him. He never spoke of his feelings at the loss, it was just that once in a while a vibration would stray and betray him. Especially so when his friend was suffering, especially when the attack had been so personal.

Remy's headache was increasing at the same rate as his frustration. "You want so 'ard to take de blame fo' dis, but I ain't gonna let you. You do it every time one of Jael's crews comes around, breakin' t'ings. Dere ain't no blame to be taken so just quit it already. God damn, m' 'ead is poundin'!" Remy complained, his impatience with Kimble more than he could bear at the moment.

Kimble stood quickly and poured a glass of water from a nearby pitcher. "I'm sorry," he apologized automatically as he passed the glass. It was his natural tendency to take the blame for any and all accidents caused by Jael's people, whether it was perpetrated against the X-men or not. He knew Jael was looking for a way to steal him away and resented the damage it caused. He'd inherited a large chunk of money from his former Master, Sabretooth, and often forced the Professor to accept some of it as payment for the repairs. Charles had learned early it was easier to accept the money than to fight against this emotionally charged creature, so he just went along with it, hoping Kimble would learn sooner or later not to take these things so seriously. It was five or six times a year that some mutant faction would come smashing the door in to get at them, not just Jael's people. It went with the territory of fighting for peace.

"S'all right, cher. Just you gotta stop beatin' y'self up over it. Y' don' see Logan gitten' all bent whenever Lady Deat'strike come knockin'? He just clean up de mess an' move on. You got to do de same. It just part of de way t'ings are. You gotta learn to relax, d'accorde?"

Kimble didn't respond, but kept his eyes low. Their hands brushed as Remy took the glass and Kimble shivered slightly, enjoying the pleasure of Remy's touch. All Siskans thrived on close physical contact. It was as important to them as eating or breathing. When Kimble was low like this, a simple gesture alone could ease his suffering. He smiled slightly and let a small ripple of Kundatesh pass between them. Not much, just enough to boost Remy's endorphins and take the hard edge off of his headache.

Gambit took the pop of Kundatesh with a shiver, gasping softly in sudden relief as his pain left him. It wasn't often that Kimble would do this and it was still a shock every time. Kimble wasn't one to display his more subtle abilities with the Kundatesh openly, he was much too shy. It was his feelings for this former Master that had prompted him. He hated to see Remy suffer and had done it to help him. Unfortunately, it was also sexually arousing to the recipient and very dangerous to Remy's loyalties. Too much had passed between them for it not to be.

Kimble knew this and stepped back, retreating to show that he had no intention of crossing any of Remy's boundaries — certainly not with the Cajun in his present condition. "Better now?"

"Oui. Merci beaucoup, cher," Remy replied, slightly buzzed now. This power they shared, it was better than any of Henry's drugs. He was always easily aroused by Kimble when their power connected like this, but he'd gotten a handle on it long ago. All it did for him now was give him a nice warm flush and made him relax. It wasn't a problem and he let Kimble know by simply not acknowledging that he'd been affected that way.

"I loves ya, Remy. Please don' be mad at me."

"Gambit's never mad at you. 'E just don' want you hurtin' y'self when dere ain't no need. You a good person, Kim. None of dis is anybody's fault. Gambit's just gonna be out of it a few days den all will be right as rain, comprenez? Gambit jus' got dat vacation he was askin' for, no problem."

Kimble didn't believe, but he was through arguing so he just nodded slightly and said, "I gots ta go now. Angel's gonna be gittin' outta school soon. Git some rest. Seth'll be here in a minute case ya wants anathin'."

"Merci. Give Angel my love."

"I'll bring her by after sos you kin tell her yerself. She's worried 'boutcha."

"All right," Remy said, his eyes growing droopy. He was warm and comfortable, his anger gone. Kimble's little pop of Kundatesh had gone right to his head, just as Kimble intended, and he was at peace. He closed his eyes and dozed, his Kundatesh dulled senses never seeing Kimble as he hesitated in the doorway, his eyes so terribly sad. No words could ever take away the pain Kimble felt when he believed someone had been injured on his behalf. It had happened way too many times. So much pain and death, how could it not slowly rip him apart? None of the humans here fully understood what it was like being a pawn or a trinket that was so highly sought after. A trinket wanted not for love, but for its simple value. One forced to watch the destruction all around it, helpless to stop any of it. Forced to watch as the ones it loved suffered just because he was near. He bowed his head with a weary sigh and slipped away.

Kimble walked through the lower levels and up to the Mansion, making his way to where the classrooms were. He paused outside of the room where Angel was, smiling slightly as he leaned in the door. There weren't that many small children here at Xavier's, mostly just those who belonged to the residents. Most mutations revealed themselves at puberty, something these children wouldn't see for some time yet. This room was being shared and Kindergarten through Second Grade were being taught in the same room by the same teacher. Seven kids were in this class, a teacher's dream.

Angel looked up when she noticed her Siskan in the doorway and beamed her magnificent smile on him. It warmed him and dissipated some of his melancholy. There were no words to describe how much he loved this child of his, his Angel. If it hadn't been for her, he'd be even more of an emotional wreck than he already was. She was his world, his everything. She was his Mistress and he would die without her.

Angel gathered her papers as the class was dismissed and rushed out to eagerly greet her father. He listened attentively as she told him about her day and glanced over her schoolwork as they walked down to the daycare center where Kimble and Molly worked. Most of the kids were making their way down there as well. They would stay there after class until their folks were ready to come and collect them.

Molly was at the center working when they entered. Kimble gave her a quick kiss and whispered in her ear, "Remy's up. You jus' missed him. Y'all should go back down an' see him. I kin takes care of things here."

**_Thanks, I won't be long,_** she signed, her eyes betraying her eagerness to see her husband awake.

"Take yer time," he replied and watched her go, happy that she was gone. They were close friends and he didn't want her to see his lingering guilt over the attack. He got the kids situated with some art projects and didn't notice Angel watching him closely until she gently tugged on him.

"You okay, Daddy?"

"Shure. Jus' gots a lot on m' mind is all."

"Come sit by the window with me."

"I gots ta git the paints out."

"There's lots of paints out already. Daddy, please?"

"All right."

He allowed her to tug him over to the big bay window that overlooked the grounds. It had a lovely bench seat with thick pillows and it was his favorite place to sit. The sun streamed in this time of day and it would warm him. He sat there and offered no resistance as his Angel climbed up into his lap and put her arms around him, silently asking him to rock her.

Kimble's smile grew wider as he held her tight. This he had needed. Angel was no ordinary child. She was wise beyond her age and naturally intuitive about what others were feeling, especially this strange creature she called her father. She'd sensed his hurt and pain and knew that this was just what he needed to feel better. He stroked her hair and let some of his vibrations of happiness leave him to be felt by her, a silent thanks.

"I love you, Daddy," she whispered.

"I loves ya too, baby doll."

"Is Uncle Remy gonna be all right?"

"Yeah. I'll takes ya down to see him after. Coupla days an' he'll be back up at the house. We'll hafta helps him out around, he ain't gonna be walkin' too good fer a while."

"No problem. I'm a good helper."

"That ya are, kiddo." Kimble closed his eyes and rocked his child, content for the now. He was still worried about Remy. This hadn't been a good year and it was only half gone. This was the fourth time Jael had pulled something, the third time Remy had been injured. The first two attacks had been minor, the thief got a black eye and some heavy bruises. The last one, he'd been badly cut. It wasn't taking a rocket scientist to see that the attacks were being directed at someone that Kimble cared for deeply. They couldn't reach his Angel, she was much too protected, so they went for his former Master instead. Really, as far as the outside was concerned, Gambit still was his owner. It was ripping Kimble apart, these attacks. He could feel the screaming building up inside of him. No amount of "It's not your fault" vibrations was going to soothe. Tonight, he would find himself out in the flower field. It would be the second time in three months, a significant increase in his pattern of self-destructive behavior, but it couldn't be helped. The worse the attacks were becoming, the more he needed what had to be done. It was the only way to calm the growing quake inside of him. Tonight, yes. He would be out there under the tree.


	6. Chapter 6

(Six)

Kimble flew over the trees and dropped down into the flower field nearby a large oak tree there. He was emotionally distraught and trying real hard to keep himself in line, choking down the sobs that were trying to work themselves out of his throat. It had been hard holding everything in until it had grown dark. He kept these meetings secret from all who knew him, he would not be found out. It wasn't an easy task as he lived with folks trained to see deception, but he had grown crafty and wise over the years. The only one who might suspect anything was amiss was the very one who lay broken in Henry's lab. He would not be stopped this night.

Kimble flew out here as soon as it was dark, being careful to make his way past the added patrols Logan had put in place since the warehouse incident. Wolverine wasn't taking any chances on Jael's people coming out here to cause more trouble. Kimble waited by the tree, his agitation making him restless. He was trying hard to stop crying and wiped at his eyes, cursing his weakness.

"What's the problem, pretty?" came a gravelly voice from above.

Kimble looked up, unable to hide his relief. "Oh, hey. I didn' sees ya there, Grendel."

Grendel dropped down with a heavy thud. He was a large man, covered in rough scales and ugly as sin. He was three hundred pounds of malice, three times Kimble's weight and twice his size. He was brutal and cruel, a side project of the Professor's. He'd come here looking to control his aggressive tendencies and violence towards others. It was slow going, but the Professor was making progress. What he couldn't know of course was that Grendel had merely found himself a willing victim to vent his frustrations on. He and Kimble met out here two or three times a year, seeking what each one had to offer the other. For some reason Kimble couldn't explain, Grendel's shine was hard for him to see, even out here in the dark. Grendel liked that fact, though. It allowed him to sneak up on the Siskan, a playful game. A precursor to the violence to come.

"So what ya done this time, freak?" Grendel asked, his yellow eyes hungry. "It hasn't been all that long since the last time --- not that I'm complainin', mind ya."

Kimble dropped his head down. "Gambit got broke again, worse than the last time. They had ta operate ta fix it."

"Well, boo hoo hoo. Sounds ta me like someone needs to be punished."

"I been bad. I caused a hurtin' again," Kimble said, his voice soft in the dark.

"Then come and git it, boy."

Kimble stepped forward and made no move as Grendel lashed out and viciously slapped him across the face, first one side then the other. He stood unresistant when the gel blood poured from his nose and mouth, standing still as his shirt was violently ripped from him by Grendel's large clawed hands and tossed aside.

"Tell me about what happened!" Grendel demanded. He could care less about Kimble's problems, this was all for ritual. He had his personal punching bag and was trembling with delight at being able to let loose some of the darkness from inside of him. First a little tenderizing on the outside, then some tenderizing on the inside. Just the thought of it had him hard and ready, eager for the blood and pleasure.

"They broked his leg," Kimble answered with a small sob.

Grendel punched him in the gut, smiling in the black as the Siskan staggered but didn't fall. It never failed to amaze him how such a delicate creature stood up so well to the abuse. How lovely.

"And?"

"They had ta puts a metal plate in."

"Just one?"

"Two, Molly said."

"Then two it is," Grendel agreed, coming forward to deliver two more heavy blows. He watched with satisfaction as this time Kimble crashed to the ground, coughing and heaving for breath. He pounced, wasting no time in shredding the last of Kimble's clothing. They scrambled and wrestled about, Kimble putting up a token fight before he was at last mashed down and mounted like the Siskan trash he was.

Kimble had his highs and lows. For his highs he found happiness in his family, but his lows, well, sometimes he needed something they could never provide. He needed punishment. He needed the pain and the humiliation. He needed to be reminded of his place in this world.

He sobbed headfirst into the grass, his body shivering with pleasure as much as he was trembling with pain. Grendel wasn't gentle nor subtle about anything he did, least of all when he fucked. He was taking Kimble from behind, crushing Kimble's wings with his bulk and bending them all wrong as he worked, grunting with satisfaction at the Siskan's whimpers of pain. Kimble didn't complain, this is what he'd chosen Grendel for. Deep inside, Kimble could hear ghostly whispers of his former selves, Lakotashay in particular. _We deserves this for hurtin' the Master_, he could almost hear her say, her happiness at the punishment a burning ember inside of him._ It's all our fault, it always is. _Her thoughts but in his own voice. _We's dangerous, we's hurtin' and killding,_ Lin was whispering as well. _We didn't keeps it small. We keeps tryin', but the hurtin's keep happ'nin anaways. _

"Uh, oh!" Kimble grunted loudly as Grendel sunk his teeth into his shoulder. He shivered violently and thrashed, held in place only by Grendel's heavy scaled hands. "Uh, harder! Fuck!"

"Shut yer mouth! Yer too fuckin' loud, bitch!" Grendel snorted, drooling now from the sweet taste of Kimble's gel blood in his mouth. Kimble's body was a skin filled with a thick gel that absorbed the plasma from the sun, he had no organs for real. His gel was made from glycerine and it was sweet and tasty like liquid candy, a delight to the one torturing him.

Kimble shivered once more and released a powerful burst of Kundatesh, showering his oppressor in pure bliss. He'd done this before in the old days with Sabretooth. What was once a rape, became something quite different. Grendel made the strangest of purrs as his brain exploded with endorphins in response to the Kundatesh. He gentled his rhythm and in three strokes was cumming, sending the rush back into Kimble, an exchange of services rendered. This wasn't about love or desire, it never had been. Grendel needed his savage rages calmed and Kimble desired punishment and pain. This was how the game was played.

Kimble thrashed and climaxed into the grass, unable to keep silent. He shivered from the separation as Grendel suddenly left him, the cold almost a relief on his poor aching skin. Grendel's scales were rough and always scraped his backside badly, bruising and abrading his tender white skin. He could protect himself with a telekinetic shield if he had wanted to, but the point of this exercise was pain and blood. He had to banish the demons inside and only rough handling would do. He knew why Grendel had left so quickly, he had been too loud in spite of the command to shut up and the patrols were close. Sure enough, not a minute had passed before Wolverine was standing over him, growling in his discontent

."What the fuck is this shit!"

Kimble offered no excuses, no apologies. He staggered clumsily to his feet, his eyes glassy and a loopy smile on his lips. Fucking made him high, especially a rough tumble like this. He knew that Grendel couldn't be scented, not even by the feral tracker in front of him. It was one of the reasons he'd chosen Grendel. This lover of his wouldn't be sent away, not like the other ones that had been found out.

"All the work Remy's done on you an' still ya stand in front of me like some kind of sick freak!" Logan complained. "Look at you!"

Kimble was a sight, a shattered mess standing there in the moonlight. His body was scored with dark, ugly bruises. Blood continued to drip from his nose down his chin. It was grey and not red, something that had always freaked Logan out. Kimble's bruises were red, the bite was red and ugly, but it was thick grey fluid that leaked from him, another sign that this creature was anything but real.

Kimble swayed drunkenly in the black, his eyes only half open. It was all so fuzzy now that the pain inside had been smashed away. He was euphoric, stoned on his own Kundatesh. He could smell the sweet grass, feel the mist over the flowers they had broken. It was going to rain later tonight. He was oblivious to the swelling on his lip and the gel blood that dripped down his legs from where he'd been ravaged. His back was scored with deep scratches and his wings were ripped and bent as if one of them had been broken. He had no real bones or internal structures, but his skin was programmed to display the wreckage as if he was real flesh and blood.

Logan was sick at the sight of it. Kimble was normally well kept, a beautiful man in most respects. He was naked here and filthy now, his furred lower half all rumpled and stained with grass. Worse than that was that half arrogant smile as if the Siskan was daring him to do anything about it. It seemed like the only time he ever saw true defiant anger in Kimble's eyes was when he'd been busted like this --- as if he knew Logan would never find out who'd beaten him and he thought it was some kind of joke. Logan's anger surged. Gambit's little charity case. Every organization had to have one, he supposed. Too bad this one kept being thrown back in his face. It had only been three months since the last time he'd caught Kimble out here like this. It was too soon for him to be seeing this again. Curse this Siskan and his pathetic weakness! "Why Remy wastes his time on you, I can't even figure. Get the fuck out of my sight. Go home, Kim. An' don't let Angel see ya like this. Damn!"

Kimble wilted a bit under the censure. The defiance left his eyes and all that was left was a pathetic kind of wounded glimmer as if he didn't understand how he'd gotten here. He said nothing but vaulted up into the sky taking off for the house. Logan watched him go, cursing softly. He knew the why of this if not Kimble's accomplice. This always happened whenever Kimble was losing it. The Siskan just couldn't take it if his precious Remy got the least bit scratched or bumped around. Of course Kimble was still deeply in love with the thief, Logan knew it even if Remy didn't. Gambit was a fool if he thought Molly didn't know it either. Kimble would rue the day it ever broke Molly's heart. Wolverine would never be able to take her pain without having to act.

No, instead of seeing these things as simple facts of life and coping with it like any normal person, Kimble punished himself instead of letting go on his family. As much as it disgusted him, Wolverine always covered up for Kimble, hiding this from the others here at the Institute. The only ones who knew about this lived in the quad where Kimble couldn't hide the damage. This night's play had been particularly severe, Kimble's face was a mess. Usually it was just his body that was so fucked up. Wolverine had heard the news about Remy's surgery and this hadn't been unexpected. He just wished he could figure out who Kimble was using so he could send the sick bastard packing. Since Kimble asked for this, Logan pardoned it, but what if Kimble's partner chose to inflict this on someone less willing? Jeez, there was a school full of kids here!

"Everything all right, boss?"

Logan turned at the sound of Rogue's voice. She had been his partner on this night's patrol and had been flying around close by. She dropped out of the sky and landed on the grass next to him, her green eyes full of curiosity.

"Yeah. Just some animals out here, I guess."

"Sure thing, Sugah. Just thought ya'd like to know I saw Grendel goin' in by the back door. Kinda late for him to be out, ain't it?"

"That it is," Wolverine agreed, smiling now. At last he had Kimble's accomplice. It shouldn't have been much of a surprise, Grendel was a sick bastard, everyone knew it if Charlie didn't. Plus Logan knew he had a hard time tracking Grendel because of his scales and naturally stealthy ways. He'd be sure to have a long talk with Charlie about this in the morning. He was damned if he was going to let Kimble keep doing this to himself.

----------------

Kimble woke the next morning stiff and sore. He'd laid a blanket out in front of the sliding glass door of his room and slept there so that the first rays of sun would drift down over him and begin the healing. He required plasma from the sun to sustain his life, but it also healed him. It would take more than one day's sun to fix the damage from last night's tryst, but at least it would take enough of the edge off the bruising so he wouldn't frighten his daughter. She'd seen him like this before so it wouldn't be a total surprise. She accepted it like she did all things about him.

Curled up at his feet was Princess, a grey tabby cat that Remy had bought for him long ago. She was seven now and quite fat, a sign of being well loved. She was usually wherever Kimble was, often seeking him out when he was blue and needed comfort. The Kundatesh flowed over into the animal kingdom as well and these two were good friends. He stroked his hands over her, loving the loud rumble of her purr.

Kimble and Angel shared this room as they always had when this quad was first built. To conserve on space, they had bunk beds. He slept on the top bunk where there was a skylight in the ceiling, allowing him to look out on the stars, one of his favorite pastimes. It gave him some sun in the morning as well, but not as generously as the slider did. He turned his head when he heard Angel stir in her bed. "Hey, kiddo."

"Hey, daddy," she greeted, rolling over to look at him. She saw his split lip and the ugly bite on his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Shure. It don't ever hurt me none," he lied softly, smiling at her to ease her worry.

"Who does that to you, daddy?"

Kimble shrugged. "Just a friend of mine. It's just us playing too hard, is all. Nuthin' fer yous ta worry about."

"Like that time Jessie fell off the picnic table and had to have stitches?"

Kimble chuckled softly. "Yeah. Sumpthin' like that. Ya hungry?"

"Yeah," Angel answered and got up. Instead of heading for the kitchen and the smells of breakfast, she went to him and once more climbed into his lap. He embraced her and held her tightly, enjoying her company as much as the warmth of the sun on his back. He was itchy, he could feel the healing happen. Couple of days and all of this would be gone. At least inside he was calm, at peace. He'd been punished for his crime and all was well in the world.

After a moment Kimble rose and dressed, using a turtlenecked sweatshirt to cover up the worst of the damage. He was lucky that Molly had modified some clothes to fit around his wings, he had plenty to chose from. He'd asked Grendel not to hit his face in the beginning, but Grendel was Grendel and he didn't take orders well. Kimble just covered up the damage as best he could and kept his head down as he brought his daughter to the table, hoping no one would notice. No such luck, when Molly turned to him for a kiss, she gasped softly in surprise.

" 'S nuthin'. Fergit it," he said quickly, his eyes hard.

She shook her head and turned away, a scowl on her face. This wasn't the first time she'd seen this either. Usually Remy took care of it, but he wasn't here. He was still being held down in Henry's lab, recovering from his surgery. She chose instead to ignore it for now and let time deal with it.

Kimble served himself and Angel and sat at the table, saying nothing as he ate. He was still as Logan's family entered the kitchen, bringing noise and children with them. Jean and Scott were right behind with their daughter as well.

Jean had married Scott Summers, one of the highest ranking X-men here. He had been one of Charles' Xavier's first students and was as good as Xavier's Second in Command. Cyclops was his code name on account that he always had to wear protective eyeglasses. His eyes emitted a powerful beam of energy that was quite destructive if not properly controlled. A childhood injury had caused a small amount of damage to his brain, disabling his built in on/off switch so he was forced to wear his special ruby quartz glasses or his working visor at all times. It didn't mean he couldn't see. He took in Kimble's face with a scowl.

Scott had never really approved of Kimble. He had many issues to chose from, but mostly it was Kimble's bizarre sexuality he choked on. The one thing Cyclops prided himself on was his self control, it was essential for being a team leader and it didn't take vacations. He didn't freak out over little things and always had things in good tight order. Kimble was everything he was not. The Siskan was demonstrative with his affection, drawing it out in others. Scott didn't touch, he was naturally stiff and withdrawn, thinking those things were best kept private. He'd always had trouble with intimacy and it was only Jean that he was really comfortable with enough to reach out and touch. It was no secret that Kimble and Remy'd had a thing a while back. Every time Kimble freaked out and had to be comforted, it was always Gambit who had to take care of it, most often with deep hugs and soft, intimate whispers of soothing words. Things lovers did. Every time Scott saw Remy reach out and touch the Siskan, he couldn't help but cringe a little at the thought of what they had once done with one another. The beatings Kimble took didn't help things either. Scott didn't know if Remy had ever done that to Kimble and the truth was he didn't want to know. What kind of sick freak got off on that? It was horrible.

Cyclops was naturally protective of his family and those around him. More than once he had questioned Charles' wisdom in letting Kimble raise the child he'd found. The Siskan was immature emotionally and worse than that, sexually obscene. Obviously he was still letting others beat him up and didn't seem to have any qualms about letting everyone know about it. Look at those bruises, those scrapes on his wings. When Kimble got tired of that, what was going to keep him from molesting Angel when she got older? Scott didn't think much of Kimble's ethics and morals when he'd first come to live here and not much had changed since then.

At least Wolverine was here to keep an eye on things. Scott knew Logan didn't go for any of Kimble's stupid misbehavior any more than he did himself. It was the only thing that kept him from grabbing Angel and running off with her. He wasn't too crazy about Kimble running the daycare center either, but again, Kimble was never there alone and it was in a large open area where the kids could all be seen. There had been no complaints but Cyclops was ever watchful, just in case.

Back in Remy's kitchen, food was passed around, a kind of stony silence between the adults as they chose not to comment on Kimble's condition. No amount of covering up was going to hide the marring of his face. The only relief here was that Remy was still in the infirmary and not here to see it, he would not be released home for another couple of days.

Scott and Jean didn't stay long, they both had projects to do and had mainly come to drop off their daughter for Kimble to watch. Scott hadn't said much, but his eyes never left Kimble's face and Logan just knew this was going to get back to the Professor. No biggie, he'd already taken care of it.

"It's a funny thing," Logan said once Scott and Jean had left, spreading butter across his toast. "That guy Grendel asked for a transfer this morning. Seems he wants to go to the Massachusetts school Chuck just opened last year."

Kimble froze, the food in his mouth a lump now too solid to swallow.

"Thank God," Karen said, spooning eggs into Carter's mouth. "The Professor was working so hard with him, but the guy gave me the serious creeps."

**_Was that the guy with the scales?_** Molly asked.

"Yup," Logan answered. "Good riddance, I say. Was just a matter of time b'fore he lost it and hurt someone real bad, someone who didn't deserve it. Someone who never deserves it."

Kimble looked up into Wolverine's steel grey eyes boring into him from across the table. Logan's shine was overly bright, it always had been. It was a sign of his healing factor and fierce spirit. It was vibrating now, a sharp message being sent. **_/ You can hide 'em all you want, boy. But I'm gonna find yer lovers, the ones that hurt ya like that. I'll get rid of them all, just like I've done all along. What's this? Yer third or fourth one? Don't matter. They're history. You want to stop this? Stop actin' like a fuckin' punchin' bag when ya don't deserve it. Remy has his ways of dealin' with yer crap, I've got mine. Just wish ya didn't keep makin' me work so hard. /_**

There was an awkward silence at the table as the two men stared at each other. As usual, Kimble turned away first, dropping his eyes and crumpling a little in his chair. This was Logan's crude way of expressing his love for a member of his family. Logan had never dealt well with his emotions, he kinda worked around them and showed his affections in roundabout, indirect ways. Anyone who knew him well would know that he didn't hate Kimble though it might sound that way sometimes. He was just disappointed that all the effort that had been put into Kimble seemed to be going to waste. He'd adopted Kimble like everyone else and as a father, expected a certain amount of discipline. He was punishing Kimble, his intentions honorable if not painless.

"Got enough crap goin' on round this place with Jael, don't need no trouble on the inside," Wolverine continued, munching on his toast.

"Have the patrols turned up anything?" Karen asked, trying to ease some of the tension. The kids were chatting away except for Angel who had her large brown eyes on her father. She touched him lightly and he gave her a reassuring smile that looked anything but. He seemed as though he was ready to cry.

"Nope," Logan replied to his wife's question. If he noticed Kimble's misery he gave no sign. "All's quiet, just as it should be. Whatever Jael's up to, it don't look like it's going to happen here."

Kimble pushed the last of his food around on plate for a minute and then rose, saying nothing to anyone. He left the table and slipped away to the bathroom, trying to get there before the tears could spill out of his eyes. He was so angry and humiliated, enraged by Logan's actions. How dare he! HOW DARE HE! He closed the door behind him and slumped into a corner, pulling a towel over his face and sobbing into it, trying to keep it quiet so no one would hear.

No one seemed to understand that he deserved the punishment, it was the only way for him atone for the sin of just being alive and here to be fought over like some stupid piece of jewelry. Jael was going to keep coming and coming and Kimble could do nothing to stop it. How could he just sit back and let everyone else suffer without feeling some of that pain for himself? It was the only way he knew how to show that he was aware of the price that was being paid for keeping him here.

Wolverine heard him crying well enough, just as he knew Molly did as well. Their ability to hear went well beyond any of the other folks in this room. It was just as well, they didn't want the kids to worry. Logan wasn't without sympathy, he just didn't approve of Kimble's methods. There had to be more constructive ways for Kimble to show his awareness of the sacrifices the others were making for him.

Molly grunted at Wolverine and their eyes met. She shook her head. **_So that was the guy?_** she signed at him.

He nodded, chewing on more toast. He knew Kimble would have a fit just like he knew Kimble would get over it. He'd seen Kimble's fractured selves for himself and knew that just as Kimble could be weak, he was also stronger than he realized. It's just that the Siskan needed to drop these stupid crutches he kept falling back on. Sooner or later the guy was just going to have to grow up like the rest of us. It was just a crying shame Kimble was taking so damn long. Who was going to get out puberty first? Kimble or Angel?

**_Why does Kimble punish himself like that?_** Molly asked. **_Remy tells him it's wrong but he keeps doing it anyway._**

"Cause he's still broken on the inside," Logan replied softly, mindful of the kids. "Sooner or later he'll figure out that it's a waste of time."

"Daddy's really smart," Angel added, feeling a need to say something in defense of her Siskan. "He fixes things that are broken. Carrie broke her radio at the center and he put it all back together again, better than it was before."

"Yeah, it was really busted," Carrie agreed. She was Jean and Cyclops' only child and only a few months younger than Angel. "It's better now than when I first broke it."

"Yer daddy's no idiot, kiddo. That's not what we're sayin'," Logan replied to Angel, cursing the fact that she was the oldest and the most cognizant of all the kids here sitting at the table. "Sometimes he gets upset and gets hurt when he doesn't need to be."

"It's only cause he's scared," she returned, quick as a wink. "He's scared all the time that the bad man is gonna come and take us away. He thinks I don't know about him, but I do. You guys talk about him all the time. Daddy loves all of you and he feels bad that he can't fight. He'd be happier if he could go out and work with you instead of being stuck here all the time."

Logan grunted, startled once more by the grown up words coming out this tiny child. "Daddy's too important to go out with us, kiddo. It ain't safe. Besides, he has to look after you," he offered, not wanting to go into a debate about Kimble's house arrest. Kimble couldn't leave the grounds without SHIELD approval but Angel didn't know that. He wasn't about to tell her because he didn't want her to know that Kimble had murdered. Granted it was one of Kimble's other personalities that had done it but he didn't even want to go there. He didn't want her to lose her faith in her father. No matter what shitty things Kimble did to hurt himself, he didn't deserve that.

"What bad man?" Carrie asked, her eyes wide. She hadn't heard such talk before.

"Nuthin', Pun'kin," Logan replied to her. She was six and still easily distracted by food. "Big people talk. Have some more eggs. You too, Angel. Time fer eatin'."

Angel smiled at him with a face flushed with pride. "I can take care of myself. Uncle Remy is teaching me karate. I got my purple belt already."

There was some scattered laughter among the adults at that. Kids, so naive. Wolverine couldn't help himself but to humor her. "Well, then maybe we should just let you come out and fight with us, then. You can keep us all safe."

"You bet!" she said with a giggle and raised her tiny fists, trying to look so tough. Kind of hard with her bright pink ribbons, but she was putting forth quite an effort. She crooked her arm, making a tiny bicep bulge. "I'll show that bad guy not to hurt my dad!"

Logan busted up laughing at that, he couldn't help himself. The whole room was filled with laughter that dissipated only when Kimble finally slunk out of the bathroom a minute later and mumbled something about doing some work in the daycare center. Today was Saturday and there was no school, but that didn't mean he didn't have projects to do. He wanted to paint and redecorate. No one argued with him as he left with Angel and Carrie, the tension in the kitchen vanished as soon as he was gone.

"Did Grendel really ask for that transfer?" Karen asked.

Logan just grinned. "Yeah, after some "aggressive negotiating". Be surprised how persuasive a telepath and a hairy man with claws can be. Wasn't about to let him put his hands on anyone else."

**_Well, I'm off to be with Remy,_** Molly signed.

"I'm sure Henry has him doped to the gills. It'll be a couple more hours before he's even awake," Karen said. "Relax."

_**I can't sit still. I'll go help Kim at the center if Remy's still asleep. I'm sure he could use the company.**_

"All right then," Karen said, giving her a kiss, and then Molly was gone, heading down to the infirmary. Molly was told there that Remy was in fact awake but that Henry was running him through some tests to be sure the plates were holding the bones properly. He would be busy for a while, a couple of hours at least. She decided not to wait down in the lab so she joined Kimble upstairs. He was quite industrious when he was in a mood and had all the tables and chairs covered up except for one small area where Angel and Carrie were coloring in some books. Kimble had all the windows open for fresh air and the sun was streaming in. He was up on a small stool and had just begun using the roller. Molly joined him and grabbed a brush, working on the trim. Kimble glanced at her and smiled when she grinned at him, setting him at ease. He would be okay, he always was. It was just a matter of time.

Kimble was working but he felt Molly's vibrations slip into him. She lived with two such empaths and couldn't speak, she had adjusted to a way of communicating without words.**_ / I love you Kimble and I'm sorry you're so scared all the time,_** she was vibrating. **_/ We're all here looking after you, even me. No one is going to let anything happen to you. /_**

Kimble nodded at her and after a moment, stepped down from his stool and approached her. He made like he was going to freshen his roller, but he stopped to bump her shoulder gently. She set her brush down and pulled him into her arms, holding him tight. They were all so close --- the thief, his wife and the pilot. She gently rubbed her claws against his back, a careful scratching of his itches there and he sighed with happiness.

**_/ Just you wait and see, it's all going to be okay, _**she vibrated some more and then released him to go back to work. He smiled at her, a genuine one, and she could see he felt better. **_What a fine room this is,_** she gestured with her hands. She wanted him to see that she appreciated all of his hard work. He had done most of the construction work and design for the center, choosing the books and the games. They worked on the lesson plans together and he always listened to her, always acknowledged her input and efforts. He was a good teacher and valuable here and she wanted him so much to know it.

"One more coat of paint'll do it. Found some nice trim paper in one of them catalogues you brung in yesterday," he said with a grin, unable to hide the fact he'd received her vibration of praise. Like all Siskans he thrived on compliments and signs that others saw his value.

They spent the rest of the morning working on the room until it was time for Molly to go and check on Remy. Kimble was in much better spirits and stayed behind, losing himself in the work. He was best kept busy and he lost track of time, quitting only when the girls tugged on him, ready for lunch.

--------------------------

Remy had survived his surgery intact and with no complications. He spent three days in the infirmary and was then allowed home. He'd was puzzled at first when Kimble hadn't come back to see him in the infirmary since that last time, but when he saw Kimble's poor battered face after he was allowed to go home, knew the reason then. He was in no condition to do anything about it. He was groggy from all the pain medication he was on and slept heavily, not learning of the whole Grendel thing until the following day when Logan told him he'd taken care of it himself. One look at Kimble's shine told Gambit that Kimble didn't want to discuss it and so it was dropped.

Remy suffered through his surgery and then suffered through more days of physical therapy. He was on crutches and had two stiff and bulky air casts. Henry didn't want to plaster him up in case another surgery was required. Remy just grinned and bore it. At least it was summer and he could dress in shorts for comfort. This wasn't the first time he'd been injured in a fight but it was the worst one he'd suffered in a long while. His days were filled with hobbling and then a kind of misery as his friends got to go off and fight the good fight while he was stuck at home. He was easily bored and not a good patient so Molly made him come along with him to the daycare center, hoping he would enjoy the time with the kids. He did, playfully spreading mischief and mayhem all the while. He was well loved by all the kids and they danced and played for him, eager for his attention. The room was filled with perpetual laughter.

Kimble laughed along, but more often than not he was sitting at the big bay window, leaving the activities to Molly and her new substitute teacher. He was still suffering from the loss of his lover. It wasn't that he cared so much for Grendel, it was just difficult to find someone willing to do for him what he needed to be done. His punishers were difficult to replace. He was back to brooding again, something Angel didn't like. She sat with him, demanding hugs or making him play with her hair, something they both enjoyed.

Remy's eyes were on Kimble often, trying to gauge what was the depth of his former Siskan's distress. He seemed calm enough, this phase no different than the last time Wolverine had run his last lover off. He'd gotten over that one and he would this one as well. Like Logan, Gambit was optimistic about Kimble's ability to cope when he was in a sheltered environment. His world was kept small — the quad, the center, the grounds for sunning. Simple things were Kimble's strength.

Once again Remy fervently prayed to the powers that be that someone would come along and steal Kimble's heart away. He was well aware of Kimble's lingering feelings for him, it was impossible for someone like him to miss, just as he knew Grendel had meant nothing. Kimble had desired punishment from Grendel, not love. Remy had found himself wondering if Kimble was merely waiting, eating up time as Angel grew older. Was it so out of the question for her father to later become her lover? It was what Kimble perceived a true Mistress or Master to be. Remy was just Siskan enough inside from what had been done to him to accept such a thing, but he doubted the others here would find it the least bit amusing. Was Kimble's life to be one huge emotional conflict after another? There were times he questioned the wisdom of his desire to keep Kimble alive. Many times the pilot had begged for death only to have his request refused by those who thought they knew better.

**_/ Stop thinking like that,_ **Shi'ow-ri chided.** _/ You're being morose. You won't improve his mood. /_**

_Je suis de'sole, cher. Just dat he's broodin' again._

_**/ Play with him. /**_

_I'm too broken at de moment, 'case you didn't notice._

_**/ Then just don't leave him alone. As long as you're around, he won't do anything stupid. /**_

_I gotta get Jael off 'is back once an' for all. Dere's got to be a way. Jus' 'aven't figured it out yet. Jus' a little more time, chere. Gambit will get it all worked out._

Gambit liked to think positive about things and had taken some comfort in the fact that Jael had been very quiet. A month had passed since the attack and all was still. There had been no attacks at the house, no more attempts to lure X-men from the house to kidnap them for ransom. No big bombings on the outside had happened. Looked like Jael was keeping a low profile. He had no idea that all of that was about to come to an abrupt and bloody end.

To be continued in Disaster.


End file.
